


Welcome to Tenarus

by morgan_cian



Category: Slave Breakers - maculategiraffe
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Lactation Kink, M/M, Multi, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Slave Breaker’s Universe by the quite revered maculategiraffe. A neighboring country's monarchy is overthrown and a family is sent into to exile.  How will they adjust to living in Tenarus?</p><p>The link to the Slave Breakers index page: http://maculategiraffe.livejournal.com/10338.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exile

Tick, tick, tick.

The sounds of vehicles advancing on his home were getting closer and closer. His wife stood in the middle of reserved chaos. Her face was relaxed, her composure serene. He was frantic even though they knew this was coming. How did she do it? Royal blood must equate ice instead of hot blood running through her veins. She met his gaze and gave him a small smile. That was why he fell in love with her despite their arranged marrige. She was magnificent.

He looked down at his pocket watch, trying to ignore the grandfather clock. The baby was whining, no doubt needing his mother, but his wife couldn't console him, not yet. There were warning gunshots. Everyone in the parlor froze. He saw a field hand reach for the knife at his waist. He cleared his throat and shook his head sharply. Violence was futile. They all knew it. It warmed his heart, though, at the man's loyalty.

Tick, tick, tick. 

Bong, bong.

He still felt like leaping out of his skin as the chime tolled the hour. Two o'clock. He had just enough time to glance at his wife before the banging on the door began. He held out his arm and felt her small hand tuck into the crook of his elbow. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

And faced the barrel of a loaded gun. His stomach hit his feet even as blood rushed in his ears. The waiting was over.

The militia captain stepped back and put the gun into his holster, "Please assemble for the proclamation announcement."

He sucked in a breath as he and his wife stood near the door of their home as their staff, family, and slaves were herded and assembled close together flanked by soldiers. His newborn son Augustus whimpered fretfully. He could feel his wife's tension.

"Mr. and Mrs. Peccati," He wanted to growl. He was a duke by birth and his wife, a princess. "The monarchy of Romano has been overthrown. We have been sent by the peoples' interim government. By this decree, you will have the choice of permanent exile or imprisonment until death. Choose."

"Good sir," He started at the sound of his wife, low, smooth, calm, unflappable, so very royal, "May I perchance to ask a question."

He knew he shouldn't be surprised when the captain's eyes softened. She would have made a perfect queen if her brother had not been the next in succession. The captain gave a sharp nod of approval. "What of my parents and my brother?"

"Three undisclosed locations have been chosen for your exile. Your parents and your brother have decided on exile. Now it is your turn, choose."

He felt her relax against him. The discussion had been almost a moot point. They had decided weeks ago when the House of Nobles had folded. "We choose exile."

"Your home and lands have been confiscated by the government. You will only be able to take things that are familial heirlooms. Your servants will be disbanded. Your slaves..."

"Now wait a minute," he began, his wife's hand tightened on his bicep and it was all he could do not to look to his beloved Jamie, needing the reassurance that his boy was still safe.

The captain pinned him under a glare, "Your slaves are considered familial property and will not be freed."

His wife cleared her throat turning the captain's attention back to her, "May our servants choose exile without the threat of persecution?"

The question made the captain pause with uncertainty. He scanned his scroll over and over before he sighed. "It would be at the discretion of those free peoples to choose to relocate. You will be required to be out of country in three days hence or you will be remanded into custody for imprisonment."

"Agreed." His wife was quiet as the captain rolled the parchment. "Sir?"

Exasperated, the captain growled, "What is it, lady?"

The princess gave him a serene smile, "May I ask where we will be going?"

That caused the captain to pause and shrug almost sheepishly, "Across our border to the south, in the village of Tenarus."


	2. New Home

He stood in the foyer of his new home. They had been in Tenarus for a week. The ebb and flow of his home had started to settle into a routine. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the modicum of peace. His household that had numbered in the fifties was quite a bit smaller. His wife, her two slaves, his son, the cook/housekeeper, the butler/groundskeeper, and his beloved Jamie were all that made the trip into exile. So much had gone into the move and the settling in; he now had time to reflect.

The house was modest. A parlor, a sitting room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a small office made up the first floor. Antonio had assured him that the small room off the kitchen was to Mrs. Finch's satisfaction. Antonio took up residence in the small garden shed. He wanted to growl lowly. Their former estate held separate staff quarters, several storage buildings, and an elaborate stable. His butler now holed up in the garden shed. It just wasn't right. Commoners! Bah! Thinking they know best.

Upstairs held the master suite, the nursery, a sizeable bath, and several modest bedrooms. For that he was grateful, Jamie, Nicolette, and Sebastian all had rooms for themselves. Who was he kidding, his wife held control over their bedroom with Nicolette and Sebastian. He was glad that he had a small oasis just for him and Jamie.

Augustus' cry disturbed the quiet followed by quick footfall. Nicolette was going to spoil him unmercifully. He winced at the thought of his unique family and their current environment. Their country was deeply religious and held many arcane customs in his opinion. Children were a current sore point between his wife and himself. Nicolette was with child, the discovery was made during the turmoil of the kingdom being overthrown. He knew how he would have handled it at home, but this new village? They were given very little information on their new home. They were allowed to keep their slaves, so obviously this village had them as well. But what of everything else? They did not have the basic knowledge of surroundings that allowed them to survive in the new environment? What type of religious practices did they observe? Would they be stoned? How would the current residents feel about newcomers who seemed to breed like rabbits? In ten years of marriage, children had always been on the horizon. His wife had considered herself and her girl too young to be mothers. And when she had deemed enough time had passed, he now had a brand new son and a child to be born from the womb of a slave.

His family negotiated his marriage when he was ten and his wife had been born. As the second child, marrying the princess with a high born noble was deemed well enough. They were together often as children. Once he got over the fact that she was a girl, they had formed a pretty good friendship during her growing years. The actual marriage had been held when his wife met her majority, a gentle fourteen. He remembered all the formalities before the actual marriage ceremony. He had been led into an ornate sitting room where she sat like a queen in a high backed chair. Most of the conversation had been simple courtesy until the topic of children had been brought up.

The king had been fairly relaxed when it came to his religious sense of duty, formally decreeing the option of having pleasure slaves sterilized. The queen had been mortified but had bowed to her husband's authority. His future wife had other ideas. She had always been very headstrong, even as a child. So much stronger than her brother, he always thought she would be the better ruler of their country. She would be entering into wedlock with two personal pleasure slaves as a part of her dowry and she wanted to make sure that they were on the same page.

"Nicolette is healthy and able to bear children as is Sebastian. It has been my decision up until now to keep them untouched and able to breed. I have been told that it will be up to you upon the sealing of the marriage contract." Her voice was cold and matter of fact, so very different from his playmate and friend.

He had sat back momentarily stunned. When Jamie came of age, he hadn't thought about it. The procedure was simple and the resulting recovery had allowed him to pamper his boy instead of the other way around. If he understood her correctly, then her slaves had not had the procedure.

"I sense your confusion," she had said calmly with her hands folded in her lap, "I don't want them sterilized, ever."

"But you could give birth to a bastard and I could breed your girl with my seed." He was so shocked he forgot to be more decorous. He had winced at his use of vulgar words in front of the woman child that would be his wife.

"As it should be," she had replied resolutely, "And they will not be considered bastards because you will give them your name. Future children will be your descendents as it has always been before the church became more relaxed and its people neglectful."

He remembered feeling a warm flush at her words. His parents could have been considered pretty neglectful as well. He had been his parents’ only child. "One could argue that we should not have slaves to begin with."

She merely waved away his argument, very innocent in her black and white view of the world and its affairs. "My father should have had dozens of children; instead there is only my brother and I. He and my mother do not even use pleasure slaves. I will not abide with taking the right of childbirth from my property."

"But they are property and have no rights," He had been confused but could see that if he pushed, his marriage would be unhappy from the beginning. Her features had darkened like a thundercloud, a royal used to having her own way.

"But they are my property," She said stressing the my heavily.

He could argue that with her own church doctrine that she would become subject to her husband as her mother had. Instead, "Alright as long as you understand that Jaime is mine."

"Agreed, now shall we discuss other matters?" 

And that had been that. Until later that evening when he curled around Jaime's sweaty, sated body. His boy had given him a lazy smile that faded slowly, "Master?"

He had shaken himself out of the thoughts bouncing around his head. He stroked his boy's dark red hair and murmured, "Yes?"

"Something happened today, do you want to talk about it?" Jamie pressed into his touch and tangled their limbs together. "It’s the princess isn’t it? I thought it was just a courtesy meeting."

"It was for the most part," He said, gathering his boy closer, needing reassurance that even as he owned his body, he also had Jaime's heart. "Do you ever regret being a slave and everything that came with it?"

Jamie went still and had to struggle to pull back somewhat, "I am yours, master, I always have been. I can't remember my life before. I don't think I could be anything else but yours."

He traced the straight nose, the sharp cheekbones, and the full lips. Jamie had always been unique. He should have had fair skin and thousands of freckles but instead his skin was the color of rich cream with honey brown eyes. His father had purchased Jamie when he was only five years old. It was his gift from his family upon the success of the wedding negotiation. He had been ten and bored with all the pomp and pageantry. He could still remember the owlish gaze and solemn expression. When he was presented with the boy, Jamie had studied him seriously before breaking into a gap toothed grin and jumped into his arms. Jamie had always been and would always be his.

He reached down and cupped the soft, velvety sac between the slender thighs. "Do you ever regret that I did not give you a choice? Do you ever wonder about the children you would never have?"

Jamie propped himself up on his elbow with a tender expression, "I like kids, master, I won't deny it. But to be a father I would have to give up a very vital part of myself. I would have to put someone before you and that I cannot do. I serve you first and only, always, master, don't ever doubt that?"

He had been pushed onto his back. His boy had been quite determined to show him just how he could serve his master.

Speaking of his boy, Jamie came barreling out of the kitchen, laughing noisily.

"And stay out, you scamp!" Ms. Finch shouted shaking her broom. "That basket better have every item on my list or I shall turn you into the master."

He reached out and pulled Jamie into his arms, "Don't you worry, Ms. Finch. I know quite well how to deal with my naughty boy."

She merely humphed and turned but not before he caught the amused twinkle in her faded blue eyes.

He kissed his boy deeply, moaning at the pliant body in his arms. He wanted to push away all of his worries and take his boy to bed. All too soon, Jamie was pulling back, panting and smiling.

"Where are you going, beautiful?"

Jamie swung the wicker basket back and forth. "To market, Ms. Finch says all of our moving provisions are gone."

He growled lowly and cupped the boy's backside, "Send Sebastian."

Jamie squirmed in his arms and gave him a mock frown, "You know how much I like doing the marketing. Besides, Seb's lonely. The mistress and Nicolette are in full mommy mode. No boys allowed."

He cocked his head to the side, "You'll join us when you return?" He moaned at the press of his boy's erection against his own.

"But of course, master." Jaime replied huskily. Then with another impish grin, he flung his arms out, "How do I look master? Do you think I'll impress the new folks?"

He had always spoiled his boy. Well tailored breeches were tucked into high brown boots, the cream colored, full sleeved shirt was open to show off the ornate gold and ruby collar, and topped it off with a soft brown cloak. His long red hair was clasped at his nape.

"Handsome as always," He replied kissing him once again. "Now, behave yourself. Things could be quite different from what we are used to."

"Oh don't worry, master," Jamie replied cheerfully, opening the door, "Everyone loves me."

None more than me, he thought, his heart tight with love and lust. He looked up the stairs. He had another boy to take care of.


	3. Market

Jamie knew things were too good to be true. The whole exile had been pretty seamless. New home, new village and a new life awaited them here in Tenarus. His master had comforted him the first night in the new bed that was just big enough for the two of them. His old bed had to be left behind in his suite of rooms. Well, he sighed mentally wiping the sweat from his brow, now he just had a room with a bureau barely big enough to hold all of things that his master would not let him part with.

It was hot in the village of Tenarus. The local market at home had been near the lake, always cool and temperate. He looked up at the sun beaming down. He was way overdressed and his feet were roasting in his comfortable boots.

He soon found out that the heat was the least of his problems. He had always gone to the market at home. It was fun to gossip with the shop keepers, flirt with slave and freeborn alike. He had a very doting master who indulged him. Not that he went hunting for more bed partners, he had quite enough at home. His heart was his master's, Sebastian was more like a brother and partner in crime, Nicolette could be fussy and fun by turn, and he did not mind providing service to his mistress especially if the master or Seb joined in the fun.

The first proprietor had acted strangely when he sorted through the various breads trying to match the offerings to that on his list. When he offered to pay, the baker inquired about his collar. 

He had given the man his most charming smile and said, "A gift from my master."

The man frowned, "You are a slave?"

The cold tone startled Jaime. His master had assured him that this was a slave owning village. "Yes, sir."

The baker had plucked the bread from his hands, "How do I know that you are not stealing from your master?"

Jamie blinked, "But I'm not, good sir. My master has sent me to market for his household."

"No master would have sent you dressed as a free man. For all I know you are on the run, foolish brat. I should turn you into the authorities." The man turned his back and grumbling under his breath.

He backed away from the stall in shock. He was not trying to flee. The thought of running away from his beloved master made him light headed. The word seemed to spread through the market like wild fire. No one would allow him to purchase goods for his family. More often than not scowling at him and threatening him.

He was heart sick. He had never failed his master and this felt like a major failure at a most simple task, one he could do in his sleep. Sure he could be impish and a bit mouthy. His master knew when to apply a more firm hand that would leave his bottom bruised and his body used. Tears were welling and he looked around. He saw a low slung wall under the trees. He sat and curled himself around his knees. He sighed as the shade provided relief from the heat and slight breeze ruffled his hair. He needed time to think.

Tears fell silently. He knew he should be mortified. He hardly ever cried. His master would go into a possessive rage at his tears and demand satisfaction from those who maligned his property. He needed his master, the comfort of his arms, and his assurance that he hadn't done anything wrong. But to go home empty handed would get him the hard side of Ms. Finch's tongue and the disappointment in his master's dark eyes.

"You okay, kid?"

Jamie kept his head down. From beneath his lashes, he saw a flash of green, well formed calves, and boots. The feet moved and he felt the brush of the soft cloth as the man settled beside him.

"You're new." The voice said gruffly but not unkindly. Jamie got a good dose of unfriendly and could tell the difference. "And a fancy little thing at that."

"Be nice," a new voice said. It was the same green cloth and well formed calves, but elegant feet were encased in simple sandals. "We aren't going to hurt you."

Jamie took a chance and looked up, hoping that he would not see the disgust and contempt that he had been subjected to. He sucked in a breath. Two gorgeous men was his first impression. His forehead puckered as he looked closer.

The one sitting beside him could have been older than his master with iron gray eyes and gray threaded through his hair. He wanted to whimper at the stern face but the mouth was relaxed even friendly. The other man was slender, with blond hair and bright blue eyes. Jamie thought him young with glorious curls in his sunny hair. He then changed his mind, realizing that the two men were closer in age and older than him. They were dressed as others had been in the market, simple green tunics that came to mid thigh, much shorter than those dressed in knee length tunics and tights. Much cooler too, he thought wryly, feeling the sweat trickle down his back. He had discarded his cape into his basket and rolled up his wide sleeves hoping for some relief as he attempted to shop at the market.

He looked back across the market place. Those in short tunics were doing the marketing as those in longer tunics would talk and call out to one another. His eyes slid back to the two men. Could they be slaves as well?

"We could tell things didn't go so well for you," The blue eyed man said gently.

"They didn't believe that I am a slave." His lower lip trembled, "They said that I was st-st-stealing from my master."

"Well can you blame them, look at you." The gray eyed one said with a shrug. The blonde stepped between the man's thighs and elbowed him. Jamie sucked in a breath afraid for the blonde. The gray eyed one just quirked a small smile. "You are a cute kid, I give you that. Just what Tenarus needs, more sexy young boys. Wait ‘til the master gets a load of you."

The blonde coughed, "I'm Yves and this is Jer. And you are obviously new around here."

Jamie nodded slowly, "My master's family was sent into exile. My name is Jamie."

"Oh," the one called Yves said startled, and then with a furrowed brow, a more understanding, "Oh."

"What?" Jer asked. Jamie looked at the other slave under his lashes. He sounded brusque and abrupt but there was affection in his expression for Yves. Maybe it was just his personality and he shouldn't take the gruffness personally.

"I'll tell you later," Yves said touching Jer's face softly before turning back to Jamie. "The customs of your former country are decidedly different from those of Tenarus."

Jamie looked down again. "I didn't think it would be this bad. A slave is a slave."

"You could say that again," Jer grumbled. Yves just studied him a moment before leaning forward and whispering into his ear. Jer frowned and then his lips curved upward. "I like how your mind works."

"That you do," Yves said almost coquettishly. Jamie's own eyebrows shot upward. They were acting like he and Seb did from time to time. Then the blonde turned his attention onto Jamie. "Let us help you, kid. We might not be able to go to all the stalls but the ones we frequent should allow you to do some business. I know you don't want to go home empty handed. Was that why you were crying?"

Jamie realized that he still had tears drying on his cheeks. He reached up and scrubbed them away. "Why are you being nice when everyone else hasn't been?"

He expected Yves to be the one to reply but it was Jer's warm hand that landed on his shoulder. "You didn't ask for it. Come on, kid."

With Jer and Yves support, he was able to fill his basket. He was still going to have to explain to Ms. Finch why he didn't get everything. They walked with him to the edge of the market. Yves stood close to Jer, almost turning into the other slave. Jer's hand was at the blonde's hip.

"Suggest to your master to write to our master, Holden Larssen." Yves said quietly. "Things are very different in our country. Maybe between the two of them, you and your fellow slaves won't have to suffer another day like today."

Jamie gave the two a half hearted smile and thanked them. His walk home was longer, the weight of his basket not as heavy as the weight of his heart. When he trudged up the steps, he was sweaty and worn out.

Ms. Finch's face was a thundercloud at the lack of items in his basket. He held up a hand and pleaded, "May I talk to my master first, please. Let me explain and if there is a need for punishment, he will punish me."

The older woman's lips were pursed but she gave a short nod of affirmation. She turned and went about her work. He could feel the weight of her disapproval.

He walked up the stairs slowly. Nervous butterflies were tumbling in his gut. His master would be wrapped around Sebastian. He would expect him to be amorous and loving. Should he interrupt them? He pulled up short. They were in his room and his bed. His master spent as much time in his bed as he did his own. He heard the muffled moans of male satisfaction and felt uncertain. Hoping the door would not creak; Jamie opened it slowly and slipped inside.

His master had Sebastian's dark head between his thighs. His own body tightened at the knowledge of just how good the younger boy was with his mouth. He took a deep breath and let the sounds of sex wash over him.

"That's right," his master husked, "Just like that. What a beautiful mouth, deeper Seb." His master's fingers carded the silky black hair, neither pushing nor pulling. Sebastian slowly lowered himself on his master's cock until his face was buried in his master's groin. Jamie's balls tingled when he heard the muffled moan and knew that the boy was humming around the cock buried in his throat. That got their master every time. The man hissed and bucked his hips, spilling down the boy's very willing throat. Sebastian cleaned the flesh lovingly and smiled up at his master. The man huffed and pulled the naked boy into his lap.

Now or never, Jamie thought with a sense of dread. He cleared his throat.

His master turned in surprise. "Jamie! Come here, beautiful. I didn't think you would be back so soon. You were quite right about our love starved boy. I'm sure between the two of us he will remember just how much he is loved before dinner time." His master’s face went from a sated grin to a worried frown in a heartbeat. His breath hitched as he fell to his knees and placed his forehead to his master's bare feet. The comforting touch went to his head immediately, "Jamie, my love, what is the matter?"

He couldn't help the tears that burned once again, "I-I-I failed, master," Jamie whimpered. "I didn't l-l-listen when you said that it was different from home." He felt his master move around before he was drawn into the lap that Sebastian had vacated. The boy kept silent and rested his head against his master's shoulder. "If hadn't been for two very nice slaves, I would have come home with no provisions. Ms. Finch is angry and expects you to p-p-punish me for my f-f-failure."

The hand in his hair tugged his head back painfully, "Only I have the right to punish you, never forget that." His master growled, "You are mine."

Jamie hissed, "Yours, master. I'm sorry." He stumbled as his master went to his feet.

"Leave us, Sebastian. You will share my bed tonight." His master ground out, stripping the clothing from Jamie's trembling body. He barely heard the boy's reply as his master's hand covered his straining cock.

"Master," He wheezed, unsure if he was going to punished or fucked.

"It has been too long with all the shit that has happened," His master snarled pushing his body over the bed and groping for the lubricating oil that sat readily on the bedside table. "I will remind you that you are mine and only mine. No matter what happens, this world can go to hell and you will still be mine!" With a roar, his master thrust three fingers into his unprepared body. Jamie cried out as the fingers were replaced with his master's cock. His master repeated 'mine' over and over with the slap of his hips against Jamie's ass. When his master's hand gripped him, Jamie went tight as a bowstring before spilling over his master's hand. He hissed at the stinging bite to his shoulder as his master's hips jerked several more times before coming deep inside his body.

Gentle hands cleaned him and laid him face down on the bed. His master pet his body and played with his hair as Jamie slowly came back to himself. Even after all their years together, only his master could make him go bleary eyed with his release. He blinked and bit his lip.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened now?" His master's voice was soft and soothing. He nodded his head, his cheek brushing the soft sheets. He told his master everything and teared up again. He knew he was spoiled but he did not like letting his master down in any way. Reassuring kisses had him fighting to keep his eyes open. "Sleep, beautiful. I'll have Seb bring you a tray later. I am so proud of you. Never forget that. I am so proud that you are mine and I love you with all my heart."

"Love y'too," Jamie mumbled as his eyes closed heavily.

*~*

His wife gave him a strange look when he sat across from her at the dinner table. Ms. Finch served their food quietly and efficiently with spots riding high on her cheekbones. Old bat, he thought with some affection. She tended to forget her place when it came to their slaves, especially Jamie. She just needed gentle reminding every now and then.

"You haven't been that rough with Jamie in a long time, my dear, is everything all right?" She cut her food daintily.

"It is now or it will be soon enough," He pulled Sebastian into his lap. He had been abrupt with the younger boy and did not want him to mistake it as a lack of affection. Seb sighed and relaxed in his lap. He began thinking of the letter he would have to compose to the mysterious Holden Larssen. How did he introduce himself? Hullo, I'm a fellow slave owner that doesn't know dick about your customs, could you help me? He had to refrain from snorting. That would go over like a lead balloon.

"That is good to hear," She replied dismissively pulling his attention away from his mental ramblings. "We received a very interesting post this afternoon. I had to send the reply immediately. I hope you don't mind, but I said that we would attend."

He blinked, "Attend?"

"A dinner party at the home of neighboring nobility."

Thinking of the trouble his boy had, he ventured, "Don't you think it might be a bit soon?"

She shrugged her thin shoulders and fed Nicolette a piece of bread, "It could not be helped. The party had already been scheduled and we were included at the last minute, thus the rushed reply."

Great, he thought. "Where are we going?"

She smiled at him and he could not help but smile in return, "To our neighbor's home, the Lord and Lady Argounov."


	4. The Calm Before

Sebastian carried the tray in the early morning light. Ms. Finch had frowned the night before when he had returned Jamie’s untouched tray. He had an emotionally taxing day, in his humble opinion, and who cared if he ate or not?

“Lazy, good for nothing, can’t get anything right,” the old woman grumbled under her breath as she fixed the breakfast tray. He had kept his face neutral not wanting the lash of her tongue on him.

But, if he had dared, he would have had to ask. “What about when his grin and antics makes you laugh, the fact that he does more than he is required just because he’s a good boy? Give him a break, please.”

He wisely remained silent and headed towards the stairs with a pleasant sting in his ass. The master had definitely been in a mood. He had been rough and possessive upon Jamie’s return and then loving and gentle when he swept Sebastian into his arms and carried him to bed.

Sebastian could hear the master and the mistress speaking in low tones from their bedroom. Probably the anticipation over the gathering of nobility and quickly dismissed it. He had other more important concerns.

Nicolette appeared in the nursery doorway. “Do be quiet; Seb,” she hissed irritably, “The baby is finally sleeping. He’s been so very fretful with all the excitement of the move, he hardly ever sleeps soundly.” As she turned, he thought he could see the change in her silhouette. Her belly had not begun to swell, her breasts were a different story. He gave a fleeting thought of playing with the rounded mounds of flesh. However, he had learned an important lesson through his mistress’ pregnancy. Don’t touch unless asked to touch or expect painful repercussions.

He stuck his tongue out at the empty doorway and continued on. He did try to keep the rattling of cutlery to a minimum. Seb didn’t know about the rest of the household, but Augustus could raise the roof with his squalling and he for one enjoyed peace and quiet. He frowned, when Nicolette had her child, peace and quiet would be a distant memory. At least, the master and the mistress were positive that Nicolette’s child was of the master’s seed. He wasn’t ready to sire a child, even though it wouldn’t be his in the long run, but really. Seb tried to imagine a tiny being that held part of him and like with all things, he pushed it away. The great part of being a slave for him was he didn’t have to worry over the details. His mistress was scary when it came to details, the master much more lax.

With a hesitant tap, Sebastian opened the door to Jamie’s room. It was still dark inside. Jamie always kept curtains closed and tacked. “The only good thing about mornings,” Seb remembered him grousing, “Is remembering what a good fuck you had the night before.”

The other slave was stretched out across his bed, the dark red hair spilled across the sheets. Sebastian had to bite his lip. He belonged to the mistress who took very good care of him, but he yearned for their master’s care. He wished he had the same attention and leniency that Jamie received. Being the master’s, his mistress would not interfere.

He tried to set the tray down quietly, but Jamie raised his head sleepily.

“Food?” The golden brown eyes were bleary. He gave Sebastian a small grin. “Join me?”

Seb bounded into the slave’s arms only wincing slightly at the pain in his bottom. “Why were you so give out, Jamie? The master has been much harder on you in the past.”

Jamie shrugged and sipped orange juice. Tearing the toast into two pieces, he offered the larger piece to Seb. Sebastian spread the strawberry jam liberally and munched happily. He prodded the older slave with his elbow.

The red head squirmed and pushed his elbow away. “It wasn’t the fucking, not really.” He curled around Sebastian and hugged him close, “Did you really think about how different it would be here?”

Sebastian just blinked, “I normally don’t think much about things like that.”

Jamie shrugged irritably, “I don’t either. The master said a slave owning village. That was that. But it is different, Seb. They were not,” Jamie’s voice dropped off, “nice.”

“What do you mean? You always have fun doing the marketing. Most are very indulgent with you.” Sebastian was getting confused and didn’t like the feeling at all.

“They didn’t believe that I was a slave, most of the shop keepers threatened to turn me into the authorities. Just for shopping, in the wrong clothes. They said I dressed as a free man.”

Sebastian and Jamie shuddered simultaneously.

“Well then they were just stupid,” Sebastian replied decisively, “the master gave you the clothes on your back, so there.” He crossed his arms.

Jamie gave him a strange look and took a deep breath. Then his sides began to shake and an undignified snort gave Sebastian an idea that Jamie was trying to keep from laughing. “What?”

“Just you,” Jamie said grinning, nuzzling into his neck and biting him gently. “So there, that’s the end of it in your black and white world.”

Sebastian just ignored Jamie and tipped his head back to give the other boy more access to his neck. “Were they all mean?”

Jamie pulled back and seemed to ignore Seb’s whine of disagreement. “No, two were actually nice. It was how I got part of the marketing done. If I hadn’t, Ms. Finch wouldn’t have backed down until the lash was across my back.”

“Tell me about the two,” he asked eagerly trying to dissuade Jamie from black thoughts.

“Two?” Jamie’s brow puckered and then smoothed out, “They were two slaves, older slaves.”

Sebastian wrinkled his nose, “Old?”

Jamie just tugged his hair, “You too will be old one day, cutie. Master and I discussed it. Aging. I am to be with him until one of us is no longer on the soil but under it. I told him that life without him would hold no meaning for me so if he were to go first then I would join him by my own hand. I had stripes for days as a reminder not to blaspheme the church.” Jamie just grinned, “If I knew what that word actually meant, then I would do it more often.”

“Library,” Sebastian replied dryly, “Dictionary.”

Jamie pushed the empty tray out of the way, “Boring,” He replied in the same tone before kissing Sebastian on the mouth, “Interesting.”

He squirmed as Jamie stripped them both efficiently down to their skin. “Tell me more.”

“Hmmm?” Jamie muttered pulling away from Sebastian’s sensitive nipple. “They dress differently here,” He tugged Sebastian until he was satisfied and then lie on the bed with his head facing Seb’s groin, “Short tunics, no collars, and its fucking hot. Like roast in the oven hot.” His nimble fingers played over Sebastian’s balls. “I’m still sore, you?”

Jamie’s cock was hard and tempting in its nest of dark curls, he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

Then neither of them spoke, their mouths busy on each other’s cock.

*~*

He lay in his bed with his wife’s limbs tangled in his own. He had actually missed her company. He and the boys understood what side of the bread was buttered and stayed clear during the hormonal typhoons of pregnancy. And Nicolette’s storm was just beginning to brew. He would try to protect Sebastian as much as he could.

His fingers traced over her heavy breasts. Her nipples puckered immediately, ready to sustain his son.

“Oh that feels good,” She purred.

Now was the time, he thought. “What are your thoughts on our slaves for this evening’s party?”

Her eyes did not open, “Nicolette will stay here with Augustus. She is not in the mood for such things right now. But Sebastian will attend me as I thought Jamie would for you.”

“Jamie was confronted with hostility in the market. It may not be wise to bring them so soon as we do not know the customs as of yet.”

One eye opened slowly, “Are you sure it wasn’t Jamie? Most slave owners are not as lenient with their property as you. His mouth gets him into trouble more often than not.”

Oh really, he thought, and what about Nicolette? Instead, “It has nothing to do with leniency. I’m afraid we would subject them to unwanted attention and ill will by being ignorant. He said he was threatened with the authorities over the way he was dressed.”

“No matter,” She replied dismissively, pushing her breasts into his hands and sliding a leg across his hip. “They belong to us to do as we see fit, including their clothing”

Spoken like royalty, he thought with affection. The smell of her sex tickled his nose. “Are you sure, we haven’t,” he trailed off.

She merely tugged him over her and spread her legs. It felt like home as he sank into her warmth. He kept his strokes slow and even, not to give her any discomfort due to giving birth. She just moaned, planted her feet against the bed, and met him thrust for thrust.

A warm wetness startled him and caused him to stop. She nudged his ass with her heel but he was distracted. Her nipples were puckered and streaming clear fluid. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” She growled.

He went back to thrusting, almost mechanically. Her breasts had him fascinated. He clued back in long enough to feel her tighten around him and throw her head back with her release. She panted and pushed him away. She reached for a small folded cloth and dabbed at her breasts.

“Sorry about that, my dear. I didn’t realize just what time…” She was cut off by an indignant wail. Nicolette carried the howling Augustus cradled to her bosom. The boy would not be comforted and continued to squirm. She approached the bed but pulled up short, looking at him in surprise.

“Give him here, darling,” His wife said reaching out for the baby. Nicolette continued to frown at him as his wife settled Augustus to her breast. Soon sounds of swallowing and quiet grunting filled the air.

He was fascinated at the way his son’s head mirrored the curve of his wife’s breast. He barely acknowledged Nicolette’s dismissal although he did wince as the door was shut a bit forcefully.

“I didn’t realize it was that close to his breakfast, sweetheart,” His wife said quietly, “My body however did. I hope you did not mind too much.”

He mumbled a reply, pulling his wife and child closer. All thoughts of parties, slaves, and other matters disappeared as he traced the tiny features of his son.


	5. The Party

Jamie stood at his master's shoulder, nervous. He felt as though they had entered the proverbial lion's den or at worst a hostile battlefield. He was so nervous that he hoped his cramping stomach would not embarrass him. He reached out and grabbed Sebastian's hand. He really had a bad feeling about this.

His master had been understanding and comforting, kissing and petting him all the while assuring him that everything would be okay but in the end totally unhelpful. The mistress had laid down the law. "We are foreigners; of course we will be different." End of story. His only consolation was that his master had given him a pointedly lustful look before groping and kissing him breathless.

If it had been a party at home, he would not have been worried. He was used to owners being flamboyant with their pets during parties. It could border on the absurd. But his master walked a fine balance, being both possessive and wanting to show of his slave's attributes at the same time. He wore soft leather pants, even softer boots. His chest was bare except for his harness. The buttery leather wound over his shoulders to the ring between his nipples. His collar glittered brightly at his throat. His collar and harness was connected to the chain wrapped loosely around his master's fist. His long red hair hung loose around his shoulders with tiny braids intermingled. The braids held rhinestones that would glitter amongst his thick locks.

Sebastian would probably fit in more. Instead of pants and boots, he wore a tightly wrapped sarong about his narrow hips and bejeweled sandals. His harness and collar was very similar to that Jamie wore. The dark hair was mussed and whatever the mistress had ordered, the boy's mouth looked wet. Okay, he thought trying to settle his butterflies, he wouldn't fit in either.

At least they wore their cloaks during their short ride, he thought with a blush. As they had made their way to the large entryway, he could hear the whispers. He kept his eyes downcast as per custom, but he didn't know how his master and mistress could hold their heads high. These people, in his very limited experience, could be very cruel. Once inside and their cloaks carried away, he felt very uncomfortable. His master stood out in his elegant suit amongst the tunics and boots. His mistress' stylish ball gown was in complete contrast to the refined dresses and blouses and skirts of this local nobility. 

He shivered at the snide comment of 'How vulgar,' knowing it was directed at both he and Seb. He wondered if his master noticed because the length in his lead got shorter, pulling him closer to his master.

"Ah, your Majesty," Jamie chanced a look through his lashes and dropped Seb's hand hastily, at the distinguished gray haired gentleman who took his Mistress' hands in his own. "Welcome to our home." Jamie edged even closer to his master, only to stop because he was almost plastered to his master's back, and the man clapped his hands loudly. The stringed music that had been playing quietly in the background went silent as did the hushed whispers.

"Honored guests, it is with proud privilege to introduce royal nobility that have relocated here in our midst, her Majesty, Lady Rosalia Peccati, Princess of Avonella and her husband, Lord Rinaldo Peccati, Duke of Stratston. We have all read of the unrest within Avonella borders. We welcome our brother and sister into the hearts and comfort within our arms."

The nobility clapped daintily and the strings began to strum once again. Jamie was almost certain he had heard a quiet snort of "old wind bag," but he could not be sure. An elegant red haired woman took his Mistress by the elbow and led her deeper into the recesses of the spacious home.

"Lord Argounov," Jamie diverted his attention back to his master. "Thank you for your most gracious invitation."

"Please call me Nikol," Lord Argounov replied, "This must be your slave?" His voice sounded hesitant as he looked Jamie over. Jamie bit his lip and prayed that his cheeks did not flare.

"Yes, my Jamie." His master replied his tone dark with possession and Jamie felt his cock twitch in response, "He had a most alarming time at the market place. He has told me that our customs are quite different."

Argounov rubbed his chin with long thin fingers. Just the sight of them made Jamie's skin crawl. "I can see where he would. Please," he gestured forward. "It would honor me greatly if you join me at the table."

The sudden jerk to his shortened lead caused Jamie to stumble. He got his feet under him and prayed the evening would pass quickly. He was glad that he got to stand at the wall like the other slaves during the meal. His place was near a window. Under the weight of the frank stares he was getting from the gather nobility, he wished he could hide himself in the draperies. The quiet whimper from Sebastian had him grasping the boy's hand once again to soothe him. His eyes were drawn to familiar green cloth. There were the two slaves he had met before. But then he squinted. It was the same older blonde, but not the older dark haired slave with threads of gray. It was a younger boy, close to his own age. Tall and fair haired and breathtakingly beautiful as he turned his head and smiled at whatever the older slave whispered to him.

He tracked the table to see if could discern who they belonged to. It had to be that one, he thought trying to fight off the need to yawn. The dark haired one with distinguished slashes of gray, it reminded him of his own master. He reeled back and thumped his head on the plaster when the dark eyes pinned him. He quickly looked down and could feel the hated flush on his face. This party was boring, he groused. Parties at home would have allowed him to sit in his master's lap and be fed from his hand while his master joked and laughed with other nobles.

When the meal was over, he wanted to stamp his foot like a two year old. He was hungry, damn it. Not only him but Seb as well, there had been way too much going on in preparation for this farce to be allowed to eat. He was on shaky ground with Ms. Finch as it were and didn't want to push it. He watched his mistress lead Seb away and gave the boy a helpless shrug. His own lead was tugged and his master hugged him close.

"Everything okay, beautiful?" His master's breath on his ear made his shiver.

"Hungry, master." He hated the whine in his voice, so he bit his lip. His master's eyes darkened as he cupped his chin. 

A soft kiss was placed against his trembling lips, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, we have to play along. I'll drag Finch's ass out of bed for a hot late snack when we get home."

His master scanned the room and watched as a group of solid colored dressed slaves disappeared through a doorway. The dark haired man that captured Jamie's eye walked past them.

"Your boy can eat his meal through there," He said helpfully with a delicate blonde on his arm.

"Thank you," His master paused helplessly, wanting to address his by name when Lord Argounov interrupted them.

"Lord Peccati, this way."

"Just a moment," His master held up his hand, "Jamie, go eat and then come find me." When his master turned back to Lord Argounov, Jamie noticed that the dark haired man was gone. "My property will be safe?"

Jamie's skin crawled as the man looked him over from head to toe. "Quite safe, just ask for directions to my study, boy."

Jamie nodded, whispering "Yes, sir," and felt his master release his lead. The familiar hands cupped his face once again as his master kissed him. "Go on now and behave. I shall see you soon."

*~*

"Come now," Lord Argounov said with a smile, "No harm will come to him, I give you my oath of honor."

He sighed, "I'm just being foolish. He means everything to me." He followed the gray haired man into a well appointed study. He declined the offered cigar but accepted the whiskey gladly. His wife would be in her element, holding an avid court amongst these new nobles. He would have to wait for her before they could take their leave. Just seeing their barely clad boys dressed amongst the slaves of Tenarus made him uncomfortable. He wanted Jamie at home and under him, knowing that he was protected and loved.

Lord Argounov was a bit on the boring side for his tastes. They talked of hobbies before moving onto business. At that he perked up, expressing interest in some investment opportunities. Both he and his wife had their birthright holdings that he had invested well. The exile should be fairly comfortable but he missed the thrill of the puzzle that came with business dealings and acquisitions.

"Now for some entertainment," He shook his head and focused on what the old wind bag was rattling on about. He sucked in a breath. The man had two young slaves kneeling at his feet.

They were in a word, exotic. They seemed to be a matched pair, white slave tunics not withstanding. The male's skin was glossy, the color of milk chocolate, even his close cropped head shone. She was a mirror copy down to the elegant curve of her skull.

"Dante and Yvette," Lord Argounov said smugly. "Which would you prefer?"

"Prefer?" He parroted.

"The boy or the girl, I can vouch for their skills." Argounov gave a lazy smile. "Yvette, show our guest pleasure. You have a beautiful boy but variety is the spice of life."

He wanted to grumble that he had quiet enough spice in his life, thank you very much, but was distracted when the girl, Yvette slipped her tunic over her head. He sucked in a breath. Her breasts were small and high with large, peaked nipples the color of dark chocolate. Her body was thin but curved. His cock surged. She was hairless between her thighs and the slit of her sex glistened wetly.

The sound of flesh striking flesh startled him. The boy knelt between Argounov's thighs and the noble's hand was in the air as if to strike him again. "You know better," the man gritted out. "Return to the slave quarters, I will deal with you later."

He wanted to ask as his own straining flesh was released. The tight wet heat surrounding his flesh scattered his thoughts like dust in the wind. Her mouth was wonderful even if the contrast of her dark skin to his lighter shade was distracting. He placed a trembling hand on her warm skull and began thrusting gently. She moaned, the resulting vibrations vaulting him precariously close to the edge.

"You can fuck her if you wish," Argounov's breath against his ear surprised him. He gently pulled out of her mouth and stood her before him. She spread her legs and he zeroed in on the wet slit once again. When he stood and gave a questioning look to Argounov, the noble grinned. "I'm sure I can find you a bed, but if you don't want to wait, mount her here."

In a lust clouded daze, he lifted the girl and placed her on the gleaming surface of the large desk. She lay back and opened her legs. His mouth watered and wanted to bury his face into her dripping cunt. He pulled himself back, "What if I breed her?"

Confusion drifted over the craggy features before narrowing eyes regarded him thoughtfully, "That's not an issue here."

He held back no longer, he lapped at the swollen, wet flesh. Her smell filled his senses. She cried out when he took the small bud between his teeth and suckled. How he had missed this! Nicolette had been off limits and his wife did not like for him to service her with his mouth, she preferred Sebastian's mouth to his own.

Argounov was still at his side, "May I partake of your boy?"

He wasn't sure what the old man was squawking about. He had more important things at hand. He gave a grunt of affirmation before pulling back and arranging the girl with her ass in the air. She cried out when he thrust deeply into her body.

Needless to say, he did not hear the click of the door closing.

*~*

Jamie knelt outside of the door, his knees were going numb. He was startled when the dark skin slave slunk out of the office and disappeared down the hall without acknowledging him. But nothing prepared him for the sounds of sex that began, the familiar sounds of his master's grunts of pleasure.

It surprised him. His master liked to play but almost always with Jamie at his side. It was his master's right of course; it was just disconcerting to be on the outside. At least his belly was full. Yves and the other boy, Bran had been kind. They guided him through the kitchens and introduced him to other slaves. When he asked for a small portion to take to Seb, Bran gave him such a sweet, soft smile, he actually shivered in arousal. The boy was sex on two legs, well three to be exact, Jamie thought with good humor. His mistress, on the other hand, had given him a thoughtful frown when knelt before her. She did not deny Seb even if she was aggravated with him. For that, he was grateful. He didn't want his friend to suffer. Yves had given him directions to Argounov's study with a worried frown. The older slave just squeezed his hand and whispered, 'be careful,' before he took his leave.

He was aware that the door opened and shut. He looked up sleepily, hoping it was his master telling him it was time to go home. Instead, long thin fingers gripped his collar and hauled him to his feet. He was afraid and dread began to boil in his gut. His master was nowhere to be seen.

"Now," Argounov said coldly, "Such a fine specimen." Jamie felt the man frog walking him backwards into a deserted hallway, “On your knees, slut, daring to tempt those in my household. Let's see just how well foreign mouths perform." He was shoved onto his knees, cracking his kneecaps against the marble flooring. His hair was yanked back and the wet head of the man's erection was before him.

"My, my, my master," He whimpered, trying to wrench himself from the man's hand.

"Do you dare to defy your master?" Argounov's hand crashed against his cheekbone. "Open your mouth, whore, or I will take my retribution from your hide."

Anger stiffened Jamie's spine, only his master had the right to discipline him. He only had the noble's word that his master had granted him the use of Jamie's mouth. He could be taking his very life in his hands but he would not do this vile act without hearing his master affirmation. His master was too possessive and they had been together too long. Even if he was whipped for disobedience, it would be by his master's hand. His master would explain to him why. His master was who his service was bound to, not this terrifying gray haired jackal of a man.

"No, sir." His voice was a whisper, "No, sir, not without my master." His voice was still quiet but firm.

Once again, he was jerked up by his collar, cutting of his air and making him light headed. "Wrong answer, slut, and your master will pay."

Jamie was nauseated as he was drug through the party and out into the courtyard. Nobles gathered as he was tied to a whipping post with hands above his head.

"What is the meaning of this?" He hung his head as his mistress' voice cut through the den.

"JAMIE!!!" He wanted to cry out in response as he heard his master. "Release him, now!"

Lord Argounov's voice was oily with smug satisfaction, "Lord and Lady Peccati, you are no longer in Avonella. You must abide by Tenaran law. No slave is allowed to disrespect or ignore the order of a freeperson, especially not a noble. Whoever heard of slave thinking he had the right to say ‘no.’ This worthless piece of flesh has to be reminded of its place."

"You have no right, he’s mine." His master's voice was harsh.

"I have every right," Argounov replied.

"Excuse me, Nikol, but maybe I can be of, well, service." A new voice caused excited twitters to go through the gathered crowd.

"And who are you?" His mistress asked her voice haughty.

"Holden," The man replied almost with lazy satisfaction, "Holden Larssen.”


	6. Rewind

Holden sat with Bran in his lap, enjoying peace and quiet. No trainees, no drama, just quiet with his sweet boy in his lap. Bran shifted, kissing his neck softly before nuzzling against his chest. He knew he was getting old if he was beginning to cherish these brief moments of respite.

It was hot with hardly a breeze stirring outside. It made the body feel heavy, lethargic. Having Bran to himself in the quiet did him in. He let his eyes close. The slamming of the front door was not worthy of opening his eyes. The temperature outside could have a different affect on different people. He and Bran preferred the quiet of the lazy afternoon. Heat could cause tempers to flare and generate another type of heat between the cool sheets. He kissed Bran's temple. The conversation bleeding in from the hall was another story. It sounded like he was going to be dragged into the middle of something.

"Everyone's gone. Good. You have five minutes to get naked," Jer's voice was hoarse with desire.

"We need to tell the master. He planned on staying home with Bran." Yves said equally short of breath.

Bran's warm gusted against his skin as he chuckled. Those two seemed to enjoy each other company even if they argued in such a dignified manner. Holden called it foreplay.

"Okay, ten or I'll come fuck you while you give your report to the master, you little slut." Jer replied dryly. 

Holden had no doubt he would follow through on that threat. He pushed Bran to his feet. Whatever needed his attention, he might as well meet them to head off an amorous Jer fucking Yves at his feet.

"You need me, sweetheart?" Holden asked and grinned, taking in the flushed faces and heated bodies. That was his Jer. The wide palms disappeared beneath Yves tunic, causing the blonde to squirm.

"You said ten minutes," Yves hissed, glaring unsuccessfully at Jer. Jer just stared back unrepentant.

Jer said dryly, "I said ten minutes to get naked. I didn't quantify what my hands would be doing."

Holden laughed out loud. "You two have definitely been spending way too much time together."

Jer shrugged, "It's too damn hot to try to amputate Bran from your side. Besides, when this little slut hands out offers who am I to say no?"

Holden cupped Yves flushed face and kissed his lips as Bran's arms went about his waist. He gave a momentary thought to herding all of his boys to his bed but he agreed with Jer. It was just too damn hot.

"Talk to me so you can keep up your end of what ever bargain you struck with Jer."

Yves gave a decidedly put out sigh only to squeak and then moan quietly. Jer's arms were entwined about him, pulling him into his broad chest. "You remember we talked about the fall of the Romano monarchy in Avonella?" Yves shuddered and Holden's eyes dropped to his waist. Jer's hands were busy beneath the green cloth. "Part of the royal family has been exiled here."

Holden was mildly surprised. He would have thought the nobility would have been crying from the rooftops at the maltreatment of one of their own, foreigners notwithstanding. "Did you find this out through scuttlebutt at the market?"

Whatever response he may have had was cut off as Yves cried out. He turned in Jer's arms and crushed their mouths together. Jer's kiss was dominating and sensual. Holden felt his own cock twitch in response. When they broke apart, Yves curled into Jer's chest.

"Met another beautiful teenage slave," Jer responded calmly. He lifted Yves into his arms and pressed a kiss against the blonde's damp neck. Jer quickly detailed their observations of the red headed Jamie. "Didn't go so well for the kid, the new aristocracy obviously doesn’t know how life in Tenarus works. We suggested that his master contact you."

Holden took Bran's hand and pressed it to his groin. "I'll look into it. It will have to be in couple of days though." If there was ever a time he could pluck words out of the air, it would have been then. They had known about Argounov's party for weeks. Jer's moods had evened out but the mention of Nikol Argounov could have him spiralling quickly. Holden had assured him he would not be in attendance. But with the heat, tempers, and bad timing, the whole ordeal was like walking a minefield.

Jer went still and had Holden cursing mentally. The mere mention of their former owner was a ticking time bomb that he didn't want or have the energy in the current heatwave to diffuse. Even Bran's hand stopped its bewitching movement. Holden reached out and cupped Jer's neck, studying the solemn gray eyes. "I want the both of you this evening. I have a need for all of my boys."

Yves' eyes were understanding as his hands moved in soothing circles on Jer's chest. Jer did not crack. He just nodded curtly with the obligatory, "As it pleases, master," and turned to carry his burden towards the stairs. Holden watched them go. He could pursue them and try to soothe his eldest slave's rough edges, but he knew Jer wouldn't appreciate the effort. He was focused on pleasuring Yves. Tonight, between him and Yves and Bran, Jer would know just how much he was wanted.

"What do you think, kid?"

Bran was also staring after Jer and Yves. He took his time before speaking. "I think you are the perfect person to help out the new family master during their transition."

Holden quirked a grin, "Now's not the time for hero worship."

Bran smiled bashfully, "It's not, master. Too bad you have to attend the Lord and Lady Argonouv's party. The sooner you help them the better. Slaves tend to take the brunt of ignorance."

"Well said," Holden replied and kissed Bran's sweaty temple. He steered Bran up the stairs with his arm around his shoulders. He pushed away thoughts of aristocracy, slave customs, international relations, and stupid parties. In this calm before, he was going to take care of his own.


	7. The Solution

There was just something in the air. Holden’s knee bobbed up and down as they drove to the Argounov’s. He looked on either side of him at his two beautiful boys. The sunshine boys, sweetness and light, it made his heart thump almost to the point of pain.

Just the familiar architecture had the hairs on the back of his neck raising. There was something in the air. He closed his eyes briefly at let the memories wash over him. His boys must have noticed because Bran leaned into him and Yves’ fingers curled around his.

Being near that house made him long for Jer. He could have brought him. Had every right to bring him, thumbing their collective noses at the bastard. But ever since the simple invitation had arrived, followed by the record high temperatures, it seemed to be the harbinger of…something.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had left Jer quite satisfied, well fucked, and scratching at the infernal notepad that could be shoved aside at a moment’s notice. But the look of resignation in the dark stormy gray eyes almost had him pulling out of the blasted affair. Send his regrets and surround himself with his boys, memories long since buried would stay buried.

But that something had seem to float in the very air as the nobility mingled, drank fine wine from crystal goblets, waiting for the signal for the dinner to begin. When the wide front doors were thrown open ushering in the something, even he felt a bit breathless.

The Princess and her husband and the two beautiful boy slaves, jewelry glittering, with perfume that was exotic. Holden felt his breath catch and Yves squeeze his hand once again.

“The red head, master,” Yves’ familiar breath against his ear settled him considerably. He followed the blue eyed gaze. A very beautiful boy indeed.

Argounov pranced like a peacock and clapped his hands loudly. The stringed music that had been playing quietly in the background went silent as did the hushed whispers.

"Honored guests, it is with proud privilege to introduce royal nobility that have relocated here in our midst, her Majesty, Lady Rosalia Peccati, Princess of Avonella and her husband, Lord Rinaldo Peccati, Duke of Stratston. We have all read of the unrest within Avonella borders. We welcome our brother and sister into the hearts and comfort within our arms."

The nobility clapped daintily and the strings began to strum once again. 

Holden snorted, “Old wind bag, he never changes.” Alix elbowed him in the ribs and hushed him. He just gave her a careless grin and fell into the progression into the elaborate dining hall.

The food was dry as dust in his mouth, so he pushed it around. He watched those around him instead, listening to Alix’s quiet laugh, finding reassurance in it that the hell he had suffered here was indeed over.

He watched his former master and his newest acquisitions from beneath his lashes. There was something glittering in Argounov’s eyes as he conversed with Lord Peccati. He frowned, arrogance of course but that something was still in the air. He noticed the slightest tightening of the boney fingers around the cutlery as Dante’s dark eyes strayed to the two slaves against the wall.

Well, fuck. The new boy obviously hadn’t learned all of his lessons yet. He followed the liquid gaze to the two foreign slave boys. The dark haired one was restless and the red head, Jamie, would squeeze his hand. He could see the hunger in Argounov’s gaze as well. He could sense that the something that he had been feeling was going to be very bad indeed. Holden looked back and met the boy’s bold golden brown stare. The boy quickly lowered his eyes.

Yes, he could see where the new family needed a quick course in Tenaran etiquette. When the meal was over, he purposefully held Alix’s arm and sidled up to the Duke. Jamie’s expression was almost as open as Bran’s, Holden thought, watching the boy give his dark haired counterpart a shrug and stared at the half eaten plates longingly.

Holden captured the boy’s golden eyes as he and Alix got close enough. "Your boy can eat his meal through there," He said. He tried to send helpful thoughts to the bewildered noble. Listen to me, he wanted to command.

"Thank you," The Duke paused helplessly.

Holden was about to offer his name. He had hoped that the man talked to his slave as much as he talked with his own boys. He bit back a growl of frustration when Nikol interrupted them.

“What is it?” Alix asked him quietly. “You are unusually restless this evening.”

Holden just brushed a kiss against her cheek. How did he verbalize what his gut was telling him? All signals were flashing red, danger ahead.

He tried to engage Andrei Taganov in half hearted conversation. The noble had Bran in his lap. The boy’s pleased expression made Holden smile. He kept carding his fingers through Yves’ soft hair.

A commotion and surprised gasps had Holden on his feet. Argounov had the foreign slave by his collar pulling him towards the entry way. Alix gave him a worried glance. They both knew that look of fury well.

“Master,” Bran and Yves’ almost chorused in their distress.

Holden shoved his way through the nobles that were gathered and gawking as the boy was tied to a whipping post with hands above his head.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Princess’ voice cracked with royal indignation.

"JAMIE!!!" The Duke was pale and his clothes were askew. But his face was a thundercloud, "Release him, now!"

Lord Argounov's voice was oily with smug satisfaction, "Lord and Lady Peccati, you are no longer in Avonella. You must abide by Tenaran law. No slave is allowed to disrespect or ignore the order of a freeperson, especially not a noble. Whoever heard of slave thinking he had the right to say ‘no.’ This worthless piece of flesh has to be reminded of its place."

"You have no right, he’s mine." Peccati’s voice was harsh.

"I have every right," Argounov replied.

"Excuse me, Nikol, but maybe I can be of, well, service." Holden piped up, ignoring the excited twitters rippling through the gathered crowd.

"And who are you?" The Princess asked looking down her regal nose, her voice haughty.

"Holden," With a sense of calm, he replied lazily, "Holden Larssen.”

Argounov’s hawk like features pinned him. “Stay out of this Larssen.”

He sucked in a breath. “I beg to differ, Nikol.” He knew by the quieting around him, he had everyone’s attention. “I may be in the perfect situation to provide my assistance.” As he circled the slave and his former master, he tried to convey to Peccati to keep his damn mouth shut.

A slave put a bull whip in Nikol’s hand. Over my dead body, old man, Holden thought.

“This could be considered a mere failure to communicate at worse an unknowing act of disobedience.” Holden kept his voice silky smooth.

Nikol’s lips twitched. “Ah of course, Mr. Larssen would wish to debate the finer points. Point of fact, Lord Peccati gave his permission to use his slave. The slave had the audacity to refuse a freeman and noble, besides.”

Holden heard Jamie’s quiet moan.

“Be that as it may, was the slave in his master’s presence when the permission was granted?”

The skin around Nikol’s eyes tightened. Aha, got you.

“It should matter not, a slave is a slave.” Argounov replied flippantly and Holden could hear the murmurs of agreement.

Peccati blustered but Holden shut him down with a look. He turned back to his former master, “Then I propose a compromise to the public retribution.” Seeing no argument he pressed ahead. “We could see this unruly act, under Tenaran law, as an act of a delinquent, disrespect to free and nobility alike. I propose to take the slave under my care for the period of ten days, wherein there will be a public act of contrition on the part of the slave, once accepted then there will be absolution. I will also use the ten day period to instruct our new arrivals on both Tenaran custom and slave law.”

Alix was in quiet conversation with the Lord and Lady Peccati. He would like to be a fly on the wall of that tap dance routine but he kept his face carefully bland not wanting to draw attention to them.

Come on you old goat, Holden said mentally. Take it. Don’t do this, not to the kid. Nikol wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the crowd, so Holden twisted the knife a bit.

“Besides,” He gave a grin and careless shrug, “Our business is known far and wide. Most gathered here appreciate our training efforts and the results. If hadn’t been for you, there wouldn’t even be a business.”

Argounov’s eyes darkened but his lips peeled back into a parody of a smile. Such the gracious host, Holden thought darkly.

“Accepted. The public forum will be my home, of course.” Nikol’s voice may have sounded genuine but Holden knew that inflection well. He had saved the boy but the man’s slaves would reap the wrath before the night was over.

He walked up to the trembling slave and freed his hands. “If you know what is good for you, kid, keep your mouth shut.” A bundle of cloth was put into his hands, Yves’ face serious. He wrapped the boy in the cloak and with gentle pressure guided him towards the parked cars.

Once outside of the circle of light that the brightly lit house created, he sucked in a breath and let it out explosively. Bran had the door open and was helping the kid in. Yves squeezed his hand and got in behind them.

Alix sidled up to him. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

He replied, opening the driver’s side door, “Do I ever?”


	8. Aftermath

Terror did not come close to the way he felt. His body was cold and hot at the same time. His breathing was shallow. He tried to keep as still as possible. He did not have enough scope of imagination to think that this would ever happen to him. Hissing at the betrayal, his teeth chattered and he trembled all over. Where was he? Where was his master? His panic rose and his breath hitched, choking him. His head went from side to side, strangers. A mewl crawled passed his lips.

"Easy," The unknown man said quietly.

Yeah right, Jamie thought absently. There was nothing at all easy about what had happened. What had happened? His thoughts bounced around in his mind llike a frantic bee trying to escape a jar. 

"Breathe," The man spoke again, gently.

He gasped and sucked in a great gulp of air. He chanced looking up from beneath his lashes. It wasn't a dream. No, it was a nightmare. He was in an unknown car, with strangers, in an equally strange land with unknown customs. And all he wanted was his Master. His stomach gurgled ominously.

"Alix."

His eyes crossed at the sudden swerving, clutching his stomach to keep it from revolting. The hot night air tickled his nose as the car door was flung open and he was drug out into the grass. He hit his knees and covered his head, expecting a blow. But it didn’t come. A hand rubbed his lower back instead. The acid burned from his stomach, through his throat, and into his nose. Unable to hold back, he went onto his hands and knees, retching violently. The heaves did not stop even as his stomach had no more to give. Tears streamed down his face and snot dripped from his nose.

A warm hand touched his nape and he flinched.

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid." It was the unknown man. His voice was kind but firm. Jamie bit back a whimper as he was pulled up onto his knees and then onto his feet. "Let's get you away from this mess." Of course, the statement reminded his nose to kick in to smell the soured mess on the ground.

Jamie took one look at the elegant dark haired man and stumbled backwards until his feet no longer held him. He was out of control, what was he supposed to do? Being a slave to his master almost had him publicly flogged in his master's first outing. Now he was in the custody of strangers. He was reeling and terrified. He curled around his legs and felt the tears stream silently.

He heard quiet voices and then felt a presence kneeling beside him. He could make out pale blonde hair and kind blue eyes in the bright beams from the headlights.

"Do you remember me, Jamie?" The voice was soothing even as the puckered forehead revealed worry.

He blinked and then squinted. Green cloth, blue eyes, the market, and he nodded slowly. Licking his lips, Jamie croaked, "Yves?"

The forehead smoothed out, "That's right. I know you are frightened but no one is going to hurt you. I promise."

Jamie blinked again, "The market." Yves nodded slowly. "Jer?"

Yves smiled tenderly, "That's right. We are going to see Jer.” The older slave cleaned his face with a soft cloth, “You feel like standing? Will you let me help you?"

Jamie shuddered. He wanted his master, not the help of strangers. But Yves and Jer were nice, even that other blonde boy, Bran. Even if the world had gone crazy, Yves' kind blue eyes were the like the eye of a storm. He reached out and his hand was circled by slender, strong fingers. When his balance steadied, he lurched into Yves, headlong and needy. The long arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"I think we can go now, Master," he heard Yves say quietly. Jamie flinched and held on tighter. 

Yves' hands traveled up and down his back slowly. The unfamiliar texture of the cloak slid across his skin and bumped over his harness. Then he was being maneuvered slowly once again. When he sat on the car seat, Yves encouraged him to lean against his side.

"It's going to be okay, Jamie."

*~*

Holden was surprised to see Jer pacing in the foyer as they made their way into his home. As if he didn't have enough to deal with, he thought crossly. But felt instantly contrite. Just because he had a lot on his plate now, his slave didn’t know what had happened and it wasn't Jer's fault.

"Sweetheart?" 

Jer's eyes were dark and stormy. The pacing reminded Holden of a big cat behind the bars of a cage.

"Something's not right, Master." Jer said almost curtly. "Maybe it's the weather, but I have felt uneasy all evening."

Holden felt a mild sense of shock. Maybe they all had felt the impending sense of doom with the heat wave. But before he could say more, Yves followed in behind with Jamie safely ensconced in his arms.

Jer's eyebrows reached towards his hair line, “Master?" Holden could hear the unsaid words behind the heavy inflection. What the hell happened?

One word summed up the situation perfectly, "Argounov."

The eyebrows slammed down and Jer's beautiful lips peeled back in a silent snarl. Jer was beautiful, Holden thought distractedly, even in his righteous anger. He could see his long time, what, friend? Lover? Slave? Companion? No word really could sum up what his relationship was to Jer, outside of the current obviousness of master and slave. He could see the conflict of a practiced acceptance of actions beyond his control and the flare of anger at untold injustice. Holden felt his heart stir, Jer was magnificent. And even after all of the years, he was still a constant surprise. 

Jer crossed the foyer in long strides until he was at Yves' side. "Hey, kid," he said roughly, "Tough night?"

Jamie lifted his head, dark red hair in disarray, eyes swollen, "Jer?"

Holden watched the silent communication between his slaves, then he met Bran's worried gaze over Yves' shoulder. Alix seemed to take in the situation and kissed his cheek. She squeezed his hand and then took to the stairs quietly. Hating himself, he cleared his throat.

"Jamie," Terrified golden eyes darted around until they finally settled on Holden's face. "According to Tenaran law, for the next ten days you belong to me. Do you understand?"

The boy licked his lips and lowered his eyes, "Yes, sir."

Oh the kid made his heart ache, he pitched his voice low and firm, "I said, do you understand?"

Jamie shuddered violently as he slipped out of Yves' arms. He unlaced the cloak ties and let it pool at his feet. The boy took slow steps until he stood before Holden. He went down on his knees with crash as if they had given out on him. The dark red head adorned with jewels bowed submissively.

"Yes, master."


	9. Long Night

Talk about a juggling act, Holden thought as he looked down at the bowed head. He reached down and helped Jamie to his feet. This was such a unique situation, but he had his own responsibilities. His boys seemed just as off kilter as he felt. Bran was worried and wanted to help. Yves focus was on the kneeling boy, and Jer had schooled his features into bland resignation.

"Let's get you cleaned up and settled," He said to the frightened boy. Looking to Yves, "Take him upstairs," Yves understood him and nodded. "Jamie, you have every right to be frightened but I ask that you rely on your training. I am not wrong in assuming that you are a pleasure slave. I want you kneeling and waiting. Do you understand?"

The boy licked his lips nervously, "Yes, master."

Holden watched his long time lover comfort the boy with an arm around his shoulders as they took the stairs. He felt the anger over the sheer stupidity of the night surge. Jer seemed to read his mood well. 

"I'm going to need you tonight," He said hoarsely with a hand to Jer's nape. Surprise flickered. When it came to relieving tension, Yves bore it well. But he needed the depth of his and Jer's relationship and the common understanding that came with serving Argounov. 

The slow realization flickered in Jer's eyes and he replied with a quiet, "As it please my master," and went into the house in the direction of the training room.

Then there was Bran. His beautiful boy seemed at a loss with what to do with to himself. Holden knew he wanted to be with Yves, soothing Jamie's nerves. But the little foreign slave had responded to Yves and Bran would understand that. It pained him but he had too many irons in the fire. He led Bran up the stairs.

Standing before Bran's room, Holden felt uncomfortable, "Listen, sweetheart," He cupped the beautiful face between his palms. "I'm going to busy and I don't want you to feel left out, it's just," He paused, "Well, you see..." Cursing under his breath, he started again. “Will you be alright?”

Bran's luminous eyes were warm when he smiled. His boy pressed a soft kiss to Holden's lips. He wanted to deepen it, to chase the sweet taste. Holden pulled back reluctantly. "Bran."

"Will I see you at breakfast?" The boy asked softly.

"After a long night like tonight, it will probably be lunch." He pulled Bran into his arms, reluctant to let him go. He kissed him quickly.

Bran smiled once again, "Good night master."

Jamie was waiting as asked. Yves was near him, features clear and unmarred but the blue pools were worried. The little slave was a jewel, lean body and thick long hair. Holden felt bad. In another time, he would have enjoyed getting to know the kid and his master. Fuck Argounov.

"Look at me, Jamie," The golden eyes were still fearful. Hoping that his instincts were right, he kept his tone firm. "I know you are scared and have no reason to trust me, but I won't harm you."

*~*

Jamie felt small next to the man that loomed over him. The face was kind but he could see the frustration swimming in the dark depths. The voice made him shiver. "Under Tenaran law, for the next ten days, you are mine. No one will hurt you. Considering what has happened to you, I know you will find that hard to believe."

Jamie looked down once again. The man wouldn't let him retreat. The broad palm cupped his chin and lifted his gaze. "Please, master." 

Holden's intensity did not diminish, "Yes?"

"What is your name, sir?"

Holden paused, "I'm Holden Larssen. Jer and Yves belong to me. I know the world has gone crazy and you feel lost. But by my word, kid, you are going to be okay. I take care of my own." The dark eyes were serious but the hand in his hair was gentle.

"Master," Yves' voice was a soft contrast to Holden's.

The older man seem to shake himself from his thoughts, "To be completely absurd, you have a chance to be an ambassador between Tenarus and your family. You are obviously well trained by your country's standards, but Tenarus is quite different." The full, sensuous lips quirked upwards with wry humor, “I’ll train you and you'll train your master."

Jamie felt a sharp pain in his chest. His master would be frantic. Fingers in his hair caused him to start, looking up sharply once again. The dark eyes never left his face.

"We'll begin now." The low tone, so like his master's but different made him shiver. "Up." Jamie stood on trembling legs, comforted by Yves' presence. 

It wasn't that different. Holden's hands brushed over his skin and threaded through his hair as he was slowly disrobed. Yves placed all of his finery in a small box and carried it away leaving him naked and exposed to the man who was kind but a stranger.

"Into the water," Holden ordered his tone strange as if he were lost in thought.

Jamie paused looking at the rippling surface of the large sunken tub. He had never been afraid of water. His master loved to swim and partake of the delights that being wet could provide. But the lapping sounded ominous in the quiet room. Water could be dangerous. Holden was offering safety but away from everything he knew, how could he trust that?

He didn't realize that he was backing away from the water, shaking his head. His heart rate was speeding up. Jamie looked around the room desperately, wanting something, anything to put between him and the man that took him away from his master.

"By the Ash," Holden grumbled. Jamie was hyper aware of every movement. The man was advancing with his hands held out in front him. A gesture meant to soothe, Jamie had an insane need to giggle.

"Master?" Yves provided the distraction he needed. Surely he could muscle passed the lithe form. He could be down the stairs and into the night. He gave little thought to his naked body or the fact he didn’t know where he was. His driving need was to get back to his master and safety.

Strong arms went about him and pulled him close. Jamie thrashed, trying to kick and scratch. He was immobilized and brought to the tile floor. He twisted and cried, but pressure on his back slowly increased taking away the ability for his lungs to expand. He panted and went still waiting for the opportunity to get away.

"Enough," Holden said firmly. "Yves, shackles."

Jamie whimpered as the heavy weight of metal enclosed about his wrists. He kept his body rigid as he was lifted onto his feet once again. "You have every reason to be afraid," Holden said easily. 

Jamie sucked back the whimper that wanted to escape. He had expected the man to be angry, restraints pointing to that fact. But Holden seemed at ease almost resigned. He tested the shackles and found that his arms were immobile. He chanced a look to the other slave, but Yves' face was blank.

"Answer this," Holden said conversationally as he maneuvered Jamie into the warm water. Jamie whimpered. "Slavery begins at fifteen in Tenarus, how old were you?"

Water sluiced over his body, a soft cloth soaped away sweat. "Birth, master," Jamie said quietly, the word bitter on his tongue. "I was presented to my master at age five." He heard Yves suck in a surprised breath.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Holden asked. Pressure behind Jamie's knees brought him down where the water lapped against his chest. Jamie tried to pull away only to be brought to heel with a fist in his long hair. Holden wasn't addressing him, he thought angrily.

"So young, master." Yves replied. Jamie dipped his head at the sorrowful tone, "You have always been a slave."

For some reason, the statement brought conflict. Jamie wanted to bristle; he had a good life with his master. But at the same time, Jamie had to consider an unbidden thought. He had never known freedom, ever.

The soothing feeling of his hair being washed calmed Jamie. His master loved to wash his hair, Seb liked to play with it, and the mistress would pull at it when he serviced her. The familiar washing and rinsing the long locks gave Jamie time to breathe and calm down.

Holden squeezed the excess water out and helped Jamie to the edge of the tub. Yves waited with a soft towel that wrapped about him like an embrace, warm and comforting. 

"What caused you to panic, Jamie?" Holden brought his attention back to his current predicament. Jamie worried his bottom lip with his teeth. The hand in his hair pulled back steadily until he met Holden's dark eyes. "Answer me, Jamie."

"You could drown me, you could take my life and my master would have no recourse. I belong to you." Jamie replied hoarsely. "I could never see my master again."

The man sighed and slipped on a worn tunic. He pulled Yves into his arms and whispered against his ear. The blonde nodded in agreement and left the bathroom. Jamie had to fight the automatic reaction to step back as Holden rounded on him once again.

"I give you my word," Holden said evenly, "You will be with your master at the end of this."

"Unharmed?" Jamie winced and looked down.

He was gathered into Holden's arms and cradled close. "There are ways to hurt you without harming you physically." Jamie squirmed, "And there are ways of giving you pain that won't harm you mentally. I take care of my own, kid. For ten days, you are mine."

It was a lot to think about as he curled against Yves' warm body. Holden, the master, hadn't given him clothes or freed his hands. But he did allow Jamie to sleep next to Yves. For that he was thankful, he was a lot like Sebastian. The younger boy often needed comfort when awaking from a nightmare. He felt the tears slid down his face and onto Yves' chest. The older slave's hands rubbed up and down his back. It was a nightmare. He only wished he could wake up.

*~*

Jer sat on the table, naked and waiting. One knee was drawn up and his chin rested on his knee. Holden almost hated to break the faraway look. He cleared his throat and Jer stood quickly.

"How's the kid?"

Holden groaned and stretched his arms above his head, "Terrified."

Jer moved around him with practiced moves. Broad hands were lifting his tunic, warming oil between his palms, and massaging tense muscles. "You needed me?" The question was off hand, but with Jer the simple was never what it seemed.

He turned. Holden crushed their mouths together with all of the anger and frustration that he felt. Jer froze and then responded with the same ferocity. Holden pushed him back. 

"Why? Why does he have to fuck with people? These foreigners are blameless. Their only fault was that everyone’s attention was on them. The old goat had to show whose top dog. He might as well been pissing like a dog, marking his territory." Holden scrubbed his hair.

Jer lifted a naked shoulder in response, "Because he can? Who knows why he does the twisted, fucked up things. But of course it would be against the helpless, those that can't fight back." He sat back on the table and swung his legs to and fro. "What happened?"

He felt tired. Holden boosted himself on the table beside Jer, their shoulders brushing. He slumped forward. "Not really sure. I don't have all the details. I may never get them, with Nikol involved. There are different points of view, even if no one lies." He sighed as Jer kneaded his lower back. "From what I can gather from what I saw. Argounov took exception to Dante's interest in the kid."

Jer harrumphed. "The newest flavor of the month? The part of the pair?"

"That's the one. Argounov was a proud peacock when the Peccatis made their grand entrance, but it got shot to hell after that. He herded the Duke into his study pretty quickly after the meal. So typical, isolate and conquer. Then the kid is being drug through the house and out to the whipping post."

Jer hissed. "That's drastic. Too drastic," His tone was thoughtful. "He's not stupid enough to cause physical damage to another's property. He would have been liable for the damage."

Holden just snorted, "You and I both know the bastard can wield a bull whip quite well. Neither of us have scars to show for it." He reached out and pulled Jer closer to him. "It was just the show, I'm boss, fear me shtick."

"We know that as well," Jer commented.

"The perceived slight, according to Argounov was Jamie had the audacity to say no. What slave has the right to say no?" Jer rumbled lowly. "I know, but a new slave, new customs; the kid does not what's going on." His voice took on faraway tone, “Reminded me of Bran almost. He was going to run, afraid of the water. Little fool, but fear can make you so stupid.”

Jer pushed against his shoulder, "What hat trick did you pull to get the kid here?"

"I offered to take temporary custody of Jamie as a delinquent. I have ten days to convert the boy into a Tenaran pleasure slave. Then there will be a public display of restitution and the matter will be closed." Holden glared when Jer chuckled, "What?"

"Only you, master," Jer replied. They sat silently, shoulder to shoulder. Jer finally broke the quiet, "So," the word was drawn out, "Do you need me?"

Holden slipped off the table and stood between Jer's thighs. Running his hands along inner thighs, brushing his nipples, and grasping the warm nape, "Yes, love," He replied huskily bringing Jer's mouth to his own, "I need you."


	10. Red in the Morning, Heed the Warning

The door cracked like a gun shot. It was the prelude of a sleepy wail.

“Rinaldo!” His wife hissed like an angry snake.

“Not. Another. Word.” He bit off each word. He was on the knife edge of violence. One wrong move could lead to disaster.

Make that two wrong moves.

“What is the meaning of this?” Nicolette cried with a stamp of her small slippered foot. Her gown in disarray, her breasts peaking beneath the lace, she had spots of color on her high cheekbones. “I know that it is a night for revelry but the baby must have his rest.”

Finch had the nerve to console Nicolette by patting her on the back, all to the back ground noise of a screaming baby. His wife glared daggers as she moved to her girl but his hand shot out like spear. He jerked her back to his side.

With his fury facing his wife, he snarled at the slave, “You may bear my babe, bitch, but you will know your place.” Finch gasped. Nicolette sobbed. His wife reached out to slap him only for him to stop her ruthlessly. “All three of you seem to forget that I am master of my household, titles are no longer in place. I suggest that you tread softly or you will know my wrath.” He glanced at the angry housekeeper. “You are not property and if you are so traumatized then back to your former country with you.” When his wife opened her mouth, he simply tightened his grip painfully. 

“You are in no place to argue, wife.” He spat. “Your high and mighty sense of propriety led us right into the lion’s den.”

“And it was your pride and misplaced cock that put Jamie into the predicament that he is now in. You have always been lax with him. He should have followed the order of a noble without question.” She responded.

“Oh really?” His hands dropped away as if they had been burned. “Nicolette.”

The girl squeaked as his wife growled, “You would not dare.”

He merely stared at his wife. “I would not disobey me, girl. Come here.” When she stood before him, he said blandly, “Suck me off.”

“Mistress,” She whimpered but cried out as he filled his hand with hair and jerked. She stumbled onto her knees before him.

“No,” His wife gasped, scandalized, “do not do this.”

He slapped Nicolette’s tentative hands away from his groin. “Then you should see my predicament, my darling,” His lips twisted at the word. “Jaime no more wanted to do the act than did your precious Nicolette.” He thrust his hands into his hair and tugged. “We do not understand the customs and naively believed that the nobility were good intentioned. Jamie,” His breath hitched, “Jamie tried to warn me after the fiasco at the market, but I allowed you to lead me blindly by my nose. In Avonella, yes, your rank preceded mine, with your crown forth with rescinded, my lordship out ranks your own.” She flushed at his tone. “From now own, we do things my way. You will listen to me and realize that you are no longer royalty. So princess,” He sneered, “shut the fuck up and take your bitch to bed. If I see either of you before I calm down, you will reap the consequences.”

As he stood panting, he noticed that Finch had bled into the background. Good, the old bat could rot in hole for all he cared. His wife had a comforting arm about Nicolette’s shaking shoulders as they headed towards the stairs. He watched as she paused and turned to snap her fingers at Sebastian. He growled in warning and she actually blanched.

Sebastian was a bright boy. He had always thought highly of the young man as he joined together to make a family. The slave kept very still until his mistress and Nicolette was no longer in eyesight before he dropped down into a low kneel, “How may I soothe my master?”

Just the sight of slender body and bowed glossy dark head made him tremble. He wanted to fuck, to fight, to break something, to break apart himself, and to let go of the terrible rage building within himself. He went down onto his own knees and pulled the boy into his arms. He buried his face into Seb’s soft neck and sobbed.

“I did this,” he cried rocking the boy to and fro, “I did this to him. I am supposed to protect him as I have all of his life. He’s scared, he’s with strangers. He’s never been apart from me. What have I done?”

Small hands slowly moved up and down his back to ease his frazzled nerves. Sebastian held on until he was able to gather himself and set back. He cupped the beautiful face wishing it was dark red hair and whiskey eyes and kissed Sebastian deeply.

“If I may, master?” Seb questioned quietly.

He sighed and stood, bringing the boy to his feet. “What is it, Seb?” He felt tired and hollowed out, but the burning fury was still there, like coals ready to flare up at the first stoking.

“Use me, master.” Sebastian said seriously. It made him flinch and withdraw. Sebastian would not be put off, “I am not Jamie, and you have never used me in this way. But let me stand in his stead. It will help.”

“She would never allow it,” He was cautious, looking up the stairs.

“You are the master.” Sebastian responded firmly.

It was foolish. In the light of everything he should not be stretching the boy’s body from the hook, with adjustments made for the smaller frame. He moved to his favored cane but withdrew as if it was on fire. It would give him satisfaction because it was almost a dance between him and Jamie. But Sebastian had never been tried and a cane could be too much. What to use?

“Please don’t back down because of me, master,” Sebastian said reasonably. “I have been with Jamie in the aftermath and he has talked me through everything. He had even taken me to the room in our old home, explaining the uses of the instruments that had been used on him. I have always been curious but the mistress would never allow it to be spoken of. When you’ve spanked me in the past,” Sebastian paused and shifted within his bonds, “you have only used your hand.”

He studied Sebastian for a dozen heartbeats. His fingers curled around the handle, the weight a comfort. “How do you not know that I could hurt you, boy, within the fire of my anger? You have never done this and yet you offer, why?”

“Because of my love for you, master, and for Jamie,” Sebastian responded, his chin against his chest. “I know I am not your beloved but at least let me stand in his stead for this.”

He ran his hand from the soft nape, over the boney planes of back and shoulder, to hip and curve of buttocks. He let the rhythm he had in practice with Jamie for so many years help center him as he talked the younger slave through the steps and actions that were about to occur.

“This is your last chance, Seb,” he said seriously but with the affectionate nickname. He watched the lean lines of the boy’s body go taut with nerves only to relax once more.

“I am at your pleasure, master.”

The first strike brought a slash of red across the left buttock and Sebastian cried out in pain and surprise. It made him falter, this was folly. But Seb had gone pliant once more and the next two blows that crisscrossed received audible hisses. His own mind began to settle down and let himself go. When he finally stopped, tears blurred his eyes. He shuddered and choked out, “Jamie.”

Sebastian’s ass and thighs were covered in welts that landed upon one another. Some had broken the skin with drops of ruby blood. He moved swiftly then, putting the cane away, bracing Sebastian by an arm between the heaving shoulders, and released the cuffs. The boy slumped into his arms, damp with sweat and tears. The copper tang of blood bit his nose. As he cradled him, he noticed the rivulets of blood trailing down the corners of the boy’s shredded mouth. Sebastian had never cried out and never demanded that he stop. He eased him onto his shoulder and carried him up to his room.

Cleaning the welts and soothing it with lotion, he kissed Sebastian’s forehead. They were both exhausted. Sebastian would sleep, he would not. Dawn was beginning to break and as soon as it was prudent he was going to call the number the woman, Alix Jamesen, had foisted onto them during the unfolding drama. He had to know that Jamie was okay; he needed to his beloved’s voice. He had to assure his boy that he was working on a solution on getting him back. Another noble came to mind, Taran no, Taganov something or other, that one had seemed sensible. Maybe he could get advice from there as well.

When he exited Sebastian’s room, his head rocked back at the vicious slap. His wife’s dark eyes snapped with righteous fire, “How dare you?!?”

*~*

Feeling cold and irritable, Jamie twisted out of the throes of a bad dream. His blanket must have slithered to the floor because he had been warm and comfortable in his master’s arms.

Going to stretch, the shackles on his wrists made him stall. His body seized as his eyes opened frantically. He was naked and bound, looking across the bed, and alone. He thrashed and tumbled from the bed.

Warm hands made him cry out as he was lifted up and came face to face with the dark eyes of his nightmare, and yet was his guardian angel as well. With dark, sensual looks, a fallen angel, he thought inanely. He forced his body to relax as he was maneuvered to sitting on the bed. It hadn’t been a dream or a nightmare, he no longer belonged to his master. But to the man whose face was calm but unreadable.

“And good morning to you too,” Holden said easily. “If that’s the way you wake up from where you come from, how come you aren’t covered in bruises?”

Jamie lowered his head. “I’m sorry, s-ss-master, I had forgotten where I was.”

“Already?” Holden shook his head, “I guess that is understandable.”

Jamie watched as Holden went to the small dresser and pulled out the familiar green cloth. He then placed it on the bed beside a brush. Dark eyes were studying him once again, he flinched and looked away.

“Will I need to restrain you or will your training over ride your fear so that you won’t run? I’ve already seen that fear can make you poor decisions so choose wisely.” Holden sat across from him with his ankles crossed and his hands folded in his lap.

Jamie’s thoughts tumbled. He did not want to embarrass his master, his master, not this man who currently owned him. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t try and run, but then again as homesickness crashed over him and his yearning for his master made his throat burn with bile, he reconsidered. 

“Restraints, sir,” he choked out, his face burning brightly, “for now.”

Holden nodded and produced a ring of keys. He released the cuffs much to Jamie’s consternation and appreciation. He stretched his arms, hissing at the returning blood flow. He watched the man warily, not understanding accepting the notion of being restrained only to have them removed.

Holden chuckled. He frowned but kept his eyes lowered.

“Forget it, kid, you might have well said everything aloud. I’m pretty good at reading transparent faces and my instincts tell me that you are a poor liar.” That made him cross his arms and huff. “And none of that either,” his face was lifted by a finger under his chin.

“I released the cuffs for a twofold purpose. You’ve been restrained for sleep and need time for circulation and two, you need a tunic.” Holden gestured to the green cloth.

Jamie kept his mouth shut, still unsure of his surroundings and what was acceptable. He needed to keep his wits about him. He was maneuvered into holding his arms up as the cloth slipped down over his body. Holden’s hands were quick and sure, cuffing his hands in the small of his back, tighter than the night or dawn before. He was turned and told to kneel away from the wooden chair.

He started when the bristles of the brush touched his scalp. The man’s warm hand squeezed his nape as the strokes began to move through his hair, gently working apart tangles. He felt his eyes droop as the bristles made him tingle and relax with the scratch against his scalp and nape, to the pull across his back and shoulders. It surprised him when Holden drew his hair back and tied it efficiently.

“Don’t worry so much, kid, this morning is going to be both easy and nerve wracking. We will go over everything and begin. But first, let’s get something in your stomach.” Holden was gracious enough to help him up on his feet. He lurched a bit, his balance off at being restrained. Holden just hugged him close and moved forward.

“It’s going to be okay, Jamie, you can lean on me.”


	11. Broken Shells and Phone Calls

He did not get Jamie situated before the shrill ring echoed through the house. He held back a sigh. Alix gave him a knowing look before departing to answer it. He knew who it was going to be and he really did not have the words to reassure him.

He looked down at the terrified golden hued eyes as Jamie knelt with little grace. His focus turned to Bran and his own inquiring gaze. He knew how the man would be feeling if his slave was as important to him as Bran. He looked around the table. Yves’ attention was focused on Jamie and Jer was reserved. All of them, he amended mentally. If any one of his boys had been taken away from him, destruction would know no bounds. He found himself curious on how Pecatti had fared.

Alix cleared her throat. “You need to talk to him. I tried to discourage him. He says he will find out where we live and he is bent on coming here.”

Jamie fought to gain his feet but he held him down. “Don’t go there, kid, not yet. You aren’t ready for me to go over punishment.” He gave another gusty sigh when the boy jerked away from his grip and tumbled to his side. His unbound legs scissored to find purchase. When that failed he flopped like a fish onto his stomach, drawing his knees under him. Holden shook his head and placed his booted foot to the small of Jaime’s back.

“What are you going to do, Jamie, inch worm away? You are only making this harder on yourself.”

“Master,” Jer, with his gruff voice, distracted him. As he looked down the table, he felt Jamie shift again, no doubt feeling the lessening pressure on his back. He gave a low rumble and pressed down once again.

“Sif’s sake, kid,” He snapped, “Be still.” Jamie’s body flattened against the floor, his frantic breath lifting his shoulders up and down. Alix and Jer both got his attention, Alix by clearing her throat and Jer’s more insistent ‘Master.’ He was getting too damn old for this juggling act. He gestured towards the phone with his chin, “Give me a moment, darling, I’ll be right there.” That sent Alix off with narrowed eyes. Not much got past her, he thought and his focus returned to Jer. When he went to speak, Holden just held up a hand to quiet him.

Jer was so appealing that even the frustration in the iron gray depths had his cock perking up. Now was not the time so he pushed his desire away. He pictured the Avonellan duke and studied Jer more closely. He lifted the trembling boy onto his feet and led him to Jer’s side.

“Bout damn time,” Jer grumbled as he positioned Jamie onto his lap under Holden’s direction.

He fisted Jer’s silver threaded hair and pulled his head back. He saw the echoing flare of lust as he kissed him softly. “See if you can get him to eat anything and then take him to the training room.” He turned to Jamie’s, whose head was lowered. “Look at me, Jamie.” The roll of the golden eyes reminded Holden of a twitchy horse. “I had hoped we would get a better start this morning.” The flush and the embarrassment told him quite a bit about the kid as he lowered his eyes once more. He started to lay a mental map of how the rest of the morning would go.

“Holden,” Alix cut into his thoughts. First things first, he took the phone from her and kissed her cheek. 

“Larssen,” He began only to have his eardrum battered by foreign swearing followed by a string of unintelligible words. He rolled his eyes and put the phone back into its cradle.

Alix lifted a brow, humor causing her lips to turn upward. Holden shrugged, “He’ll call back.” The phone vibrated as it pealed once again. Alix chuckled and returned to the dining room as he lifted the phone.

He took a deep breath, “Holden Larssen.”

“I demand to see Jamie this instance.” Rinaldo Peccati growled but under much more restraint.

Holden once again admired the man. If it had been him, he wouldn’t be on the phone. He would be battering down the doors, damning the world to hell until he had his boy back in his arms. “That’s not possible, your lordship,” He replied regretfully. Again the tirade blistered his ear. When it didn’t slow down, he dropped the phone back onto its cradle and began to count to five. At three, the phone rang once more. He snorted, he could almost feel the man’s frustration in the sharp sound.

“Are you ready to talk?” He asked calmly, studying his fingernails.

“Yes,” came the defeated reply.

He felt sorry for the man, “I cannot give you access to Jamie until the agreement is met,” one solitary curse interrupted him, “I will however need to meet with you in a couple of days to give you a training course as well.”

The duke blustered, “Train, me, how dare you, you insolent commoner.”

Holden held back a chuckle. Nobility stupidity knew no borders, “Yes, your lordship, training, if you want this to work and your boy to come away unscathed.”

He heard a painful intake of breath on the other end, and finally, “Agreed.” He took down the information that he needed and was about to give his farewell when the duke spoke again, quiet and pain laden, “Mister Larssen, give me something, tell me he’s okay. He’s frightened, I know. Jamie has not known a day of hardship in his life. He’s willful, arrogant,” The voice broke, “beautiful and he’s always been mine. This is my fault, do not hurt him.”

And with that, Holden forgave him of everything. He would see the two of them to the end. Getting to fuck with Argounov was just a side benefit. “He will be fine, I give you my word.”

The click followed by silence felt like a lead weight about his shoulders. He really was getting too old for this.

“Master?” He looked up blindly into Bran’s luminous beautiful eyes. He didn’t say anything; he just drew him into his arms and inhaled his scent as the long lean body settled against his own.

If he needed to take a few moments, by the Ash, he would. Being master did not solve everything.

*~*

Jamie tried to keep himself balanced on the slave’s lap without touching him anymore than he had too. He bit his lip to keep from tasting the food that Jer offered him.

“Relax, kid,” the older slave said gruffly. The eggs bussed against his closed lips impatiently, “Starving yourself won’t make things any easier.” This time the words were gentle. 

He opened his mouth hesitantly expecting the tines to be jabbed into his mouth. It didn’t happen. The fork didn’t move. He flicked a look at Jer. The gray eyes watched him closely. When he dipped his head forward, he took the eggs and moved back quickly.

“See,” Jer ate a few bites of his own, “The world didn’t come to an end.”

The sheer ridiculousness of the statement had tears burning once more. If the older slave had dark eyes instead of gray, he could easily picture himself at home in his own master’s lap. He sucked in a painful breath and dropped his chin.

The tenseness in the muscles beneath him had Jamie preparing to be dumped into the floor. Instead the cutlery clattered and a strong arm went about his shoulder drawing him down on the broad chest. He fisted his bound hands together. He couldn’t get his bearings, what he expected and what happened kept him unbalanced. 

“Relax,” Jer said again but didn’t do anything else. He just held him.

Despite his best intentions, he did relax. Jer was warm and strangely comforting. He allowed himself to observe the rest of the inhabitants at the table. Most he had seen before, either at the market or at the party. A gently rounded woman with red hair and freckles did not tarry long. She carried her plate away and disappeared through a doorway he assumed led to the kitchen.

That left Bran and Yves. The soft light in the dining room altered his perceptions somewhat. He gazed at the youngest of the slaves from beneath his lashes.

Honey under water, he thought inanely at the soft brown hair that bordered on blonde. Maybe it had been the bright lights of the party that made the hair look more gold than brown. Honey under water, sweet but blurred, the boy’s expression was pensive as he kept looking toward the doorway where the master had exited. Not sticky sweet or sickeningly sweet, but hauntingly sweet like the brief taste of rich bittersweet chocolate. When the mistress appeared, he stood quickly and made his way towards his master, like needle seeking its north on a compass.

The mistress squeezed Yves’ shoulder as she made her way back to her seat. Yves’ expression was a juxtaposition of seriousness and amusement. Like a cloud over the sun, he smiled a little at the thought of the older slave’s comforting arms.

Yves’ sunny hair and bright blue eyes made him think of light, of sunshine, of happier days. Yves was a like a calm bright center in a world gone crazy. He felt warmed when the blue eyes turned on him and gave him an understanding look, soft and gentle.

The world had gone crazy but he could sense the security of this home. No one was pinched or fearful, just a steady rhythm of everyone knowing their part. Much like his own home, the thought stabbed at him.

He was surprised when the water glass touched his lips. In his distraction, Jer had fed him bits of bread and fruit. He could taste it on his tongue as the cool water slid down his throat. Relax Jer had said, well, he had.

Until the older slave stood and steadied him on his feet, he felt the panic begin to rise once again. Jer led him forward as the master had, with arm about him keeping him steady. His heart stopped and tried to back away.

The room was much like the play room in his master’s house. From the implements glistening in the light to the ominous hook hanging from the ceiling. He knew what happened in rooms like this. He balked and fought against the arms about him. Where his master made the pain feel good, he did not know this new master, this Holden. He could hurt him, disfigure him, maybe even kill him, his earlier thoughts came back in a torrent. His breath came out in pants and he felt his heartbeat as it jumped painfully.

“Now,” Holden’s voice cut through the swirling thoughts. “We need to get started.”


	12. Three Conversations

He placed the phone on the cradle. His fingers were aching when he finally released it.

Jamie

He looked up at the ceiling, knowing that his wife was ensconced in the bedroom with Nicolette. She wisely left Sebastian alone, for the time being. After having the audacity to slap him, he reminded her that she was no longer princess. In Tenarus, he was the master of the house and would be looked upon as such. He was reasonable and dispassionate; Seb's ass and thighs had bore the brunt of his emotional turmoil. He knew he had not heard the end of it, but for now he had won the skirmish.

Jamie

He walked up the stairs. He needed to be in his office, going over accounts and investments. He needed to make sure that his family continued to have access to the affluent lifestyle in which they were accustom. He just couldn't bear it. Jamie would sit at his feet, be his sounding board, and be a delightful distraction just by being himself made the drudgery of work seem lighter. No, he wasn't going to work. He needed to make sure one more bridge was overcome. Before that blasted Larssen made his way into his home to train him.

The nerve.

He opened the door to his suite and it was what he suspected. His wife sat before her dressing mirror, furious and swollen eyed. Nicolette crooned and petted her. He ground his teeth and made his entrance.

"Nicolette, come here."

The girl paled and sought her mistress in the mirror. His wife's shoulders went rigid. For once she did not contradict him. She gave Nicolette a sharp nod and a quiet, "Go."

He took her by her elbow and without another word led her down the hall to her small bedroom.

"M-m-master," she whimpered.

"Strip and get into bed." He said it calmly. She knew how to work her attributes. Trembling lips, wide imploring eyes, hesitant movements all worked to her favor when it came to his wife. Jaime always said that Nicolette was a better actress than slave.

Jamie

He undressed himself mechanically and lay beside her, not touching her and allowing her to settle herself. He could feel her trembling and it did not soften his heart. She was just as spoiled as Jamie. But where Jamie was arrogant and willful, Nicolette could be calculating and spiteful. She had little patience for the males in the household and made it blatantly clear from behind the skirts of her mistress. She could easily have fallen as Jamie had in the presence of the new nobility. She would be vulnerable as well as his babe in her womb.

She finally went still. He moved over her and she reluctantly opened her legs. Before the exile, his wife had assured her slave that she would not have to service him or the male slaves in her delicate condition. Nicolette may have belonged to his wife, but he was her master as well.

Her body was changing slowly. The gentle swell of her lower belly, her full heavy breasts, the reddened tips, the glow over motherhood looked good on her. Despite the frowning lips and puckered brow, she was quite beautiful. He ran his hand over where his baby was growing. It bound Nicolette to him in ways she would never be bound to his wife.

But she did not make his blood boil or his cock ache like his boy did. Jamie would tease and draw back a slender leg, revealing his tiny opening and making him salivate. He palmed his flesh, thinking of his boy, preparing to mount Nicolette.

Jamie

The slick wet heat and her grunt of dissatisfaction brought him back to himself. He levered himself up and glared down at his slave. Without thinking, he reared back and slapped her. Her eyes watered but she bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes snapped angrily.

"Careful, little girl," He warned, gripping her hips and pulling her onto his cock. "I am well within my rights to sell you after the birth of my child. You would be sold here, in Tenarus, not Avonella."

"My mistress would not allow it," She gritted out.

He began sliding into the loose wet cunt. "My wife would not have a say." He was beginning to lose his erection. He maneuvered her roughly onto her hands and knees. Filling his hands with rounded muscles of her ass, he sank back into her body.

"Then you would not have a say if she sold your precious Jamie." Nicolette replied, her word muffled by the bedclothes.

He filled his hand with her blonde curls and jerked her back and up onto him. He bit her ear sharply, reveling in the yelp of pain. "But where as I would move heaven and earth to regain my boy, would she do the same for you?" His hand traveled down her abdomen into the damp nest of curls. Searching, he found was he was looking for and pressed against the little nub hard. 

Nicolette cried out and pushed down onto him. "Do you think she will desire your body once it is changed and stretched from giving birth? You don't think she would want a younger, tighter lovely girl?"

He watched the tremors of her orgasm shake her thin shoulders. Her head slumped forward, "No," she sobbed, "My mistress loves me."

His final thrusts were sharp and hard. Once he got his breath back, he pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed. "That she does," he replied quietly, "but things are different here. We are all going to have to adjust. That includes you. Despite what you think of me, Nicolette, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

He sucked in a painful breath, "You have never been very nice to Jaime but he has never spoken ill of you. He is the one who runs interference to keep your back from bearing my anger, not my wife. I regret that I took you roughly and used hurtful words. Remember that when you whisper to your mistress. You are ours and in part mine. Things will be different now and that includes your behavior."

She was quiet until she finally turned, her blonde hair sweat matted to her forehead. "Master," Nicolette whispered.

"Yes?"

"I'll try to do better."

His touch was gentle across her back and into her hair, "That is all that I ask." He kept his ministrations light until her breathing even out and she drifted off to sleep.

The water was cold and bracing as he splashed his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His stomach felt hollow and his heart beat painfully.

Jamie

*~*

He opened his eyes at the butterfly touch. He was too sore to turn completely onto his back. He knew who it was, "Mistress."

The mistress traced over his welted skin, "Why, baby? Why would you let him do something like this? He said you asked him to."

"Because I serve to please, mistress," He responded. He was worried at her reaction. She could sell him or deny him. Just because he yearned for the master, he still belonged to the mistress.

She hummed quietly, the touch as delicate as a butterfly wing. When she finally spoke, her tone was heavy with regret, "Do I not take care of you? Do I not give you everything? Do you no longer want to belong to me?"

He hissed as he turned and sat up. Her dark eyes were serious. "I am yours, mistress, always. But I belong to the master as well. I have always wanted to serve you both. He allowed me to take care of him, mistress, because he didn't have Jaime. He needed me." His voice broke.

"And you don't think I do?" She cupped his face, "I can't give you pain, darling. I can't. But never doubt that you aren't important to me. To lose you would be like losing a limb, a part of my heart, you and Nicolette are mine."

He sucked in a breath, "May I speak, mistress?" He thought she was going to deny him, her face serious and placid. She nodded slowly. "If you would be bereft without Nicolette and I, then think of the master. He is reeling without Jaime."

"It was his own fault," She spat. Her movements were jerky as she paced his small bedroom. He wisely kept quiet. "The Lord and Lady were most gracious. Jaime must have over stepped his bounds."

"But we do not know our bounds," Sebastian said cautiously. "Jaime feared the party after what happened in the market."

The princess sat heavily on the bed. She held out her hand and he went into her arms automatically. He had to bite his tongue when the rough cotton of her gown abraded his skin. When she didn't speak again, Sebastian kept his own counsel. He hoped that she would bend. Because if she didn't, there would be many more dark times ahead.

*~*

Jamie wanted to cry out, to run, to panic when Jer left after speaking quietly with the master. He kept his head down, twisting his bound hands together. The gaze of the master felt heavy and probing. He knew he was shaking; he had to lock his knees to keep from falling on his face.

"You and I haven't had the best of starts, Jaime," the master, Holden, said quietly. "I can hardly fault you for the breeches of etiquette that you have shown. So be easy, I'm not going to cut you up and bury you, kid. I'm going to see you back to your master."

Jaime fought the need to flinch when Holden unlocked the restraints. He let his arms fall to his sides, the tingling of rushing blood and his aching shoulders distracted him from the knowing eyes of the master.

"I want to see you naked," Holden said almost off handedly. 

Jamie paused, trying to determine the command and the threat. He grasped the hem of the unfamiliar tunic and pulled it up and over his head. He held the material in front of his groin, uncertain. Sighing, he folded the cloth and held it. If he were at home, he would place the clothing on the floor as he knelt at his master's feet. Holden hadn't said kneel, just the desire to see his body.

Holden circled him and when he came into view, he took the clothing, his barrier to the all knowing eyes, away. He was startled when the warm palm stroked his nape. The sheer familiarity of the touch provoked a quiet moan. He was expecting pain but he would take the brief respite in the warm palm and long fingers.

"Kneel."

Jaime's eyes fell to half mast as he lowered himself gracefully. He might not know the man, the master, but his body recognized the power in the liquid tone. He settled himself onto his heels; his hands clasped behind his back, and kept his head lowered.

"Present."

He opened his thighs and placed his hands upon them, palms up. Gentle fingers unclasped his hair, the weight settled across his shoulders. The touch was warm and soothing as the blunt nails scraped against his scalp.

"Tell me what happened at the party," Holden demanded, the long fingers still in his hair.

He bit his lip. His disobedience had landed him in this precarious position. Holden was Tenaran not Avonellan. Despite his assurance, would he react with violence at his disrespect to a Tenaran noble? The hand tightened and pulled his head back. Not harshly, but brought his gaze to the dark knowing eyes.

"The noble demanded service, master." Jamie said hoarsely.

The fingers gentled once more, "In Avonella, if a noble demands service what would you do?"

He tried to pull away from the touch, the reality of Holden setting in. He wanted his master. Holden pulled his hair once more.

"Answer me, Jamie."

"I am always at my master's side; any demand is presented to my master first."

The hand fell away. "Why did you resist? Would you not assume that your master had given Lord Argounov his consent?"

Tears sprang up and burned, "My master has only offered my mouth to the closest of friends. He would discuss it at length with me beforehand. I did not know the noble and it was not a normal assumption of my master."

Holden left his line of sight. He could hear him moving around the room. Jamie steeled himself for the pain that was about to rain down. He had answered honestly. He could not grasp the rules, the unstated rules that slaves depended on.

The warm hands that gripped his biceps made him flinch violently. "Easy, Jaime," his breath caught and clogged in his chest. He wasn't ready for the pain. His master knew him, knew how far to take it, never giving him too much. Tears flowed down his cheeks. He stiffened his arms, unwilling to let them be attached to the hook. One hand slipped down onto his hip. It was so unexpected that he relaxed enough to be maneuvered onto an oilcloth-covered table. The fabric was strange but not harsh against his shivering body.

The master maneuvered him onto his stomach, his arms at his sides. He felt his hair being lifted off his back and onto the side, gathered over one shoulder. The warm air made the hairs on his nape stand up. The master's hands left his body once again. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for what was about to hurt him.

Slick, warm skin touched his shoulders. The hands slid down his spine and up his sides to his shoulders. Tears pooled onto the cloth. He wasn't the one who received massages. He would provide the service to the members of his family, his master. The smooth, deep touches went from nape to ankle. He couldn't fight it. His body relaxed, betraying his master and his heart.

"You have done nothing wrong," Holden's voice was strange, heavy and faraway. "You followed the rules that have been with you since your enslavement. Your training is exquisite. I'll help you understand the expectations of Tenarus. Never fear answering questions, it will be the only way I can help you." The hands went still. He could feel Holden's presence hovering over him. "If you lie, then you will not only hurt yourself but your master as well." 

His beautiful master, the only love he had ever known. He sobbed quietly and tucked his chin into his chest.

"Don't cry, kiddo, you are going to be just fine." The touch changed from relaxing to soothing. His tears trickled to a stop; his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Jamie blinked his eyes swollen and itchy. He gave himself up to the comfort of strong hands that promised protection not harm. His eyes closed and his breathing deepened.

"Good boy," Holden's voice was near. He felt the moist touch against his temple. As he slipped into sleep, he was not going to think about the fact he desired to feel the soft lips against his skin once more.


	13. Boredom

Second day. 

It was only the second day and he was bored. Jamie sat on the end of the bed, his legs swinging back and forth. No one had come to get him yet.

It was still early, the shadows in his room beginning to lighten. No wonder he was up early, he hadn't slept for so many hours in years. His master said he would only sleep when he was sick and laid low. Other than that he was always a ball of boundless energy.

He didn't feel so energetic. He was bored and lonely. The day before had passed in a blur. After he had awoke, the master, Holden had set him down and questioned him more about the traditional slave laws and rules of behavior in Avonella. Then he had been fed and bathed by the master's hand. And at the end, his shackles had been left in the training room, a quiet significance from the master, and put to bed in this small room alone. The dark eyes were gentle and Jamie found himself wanting the butterfly soft touch of the man's lips.

Jamie didn't mind sleeping alone, it just wasn't often. He was usually in bed with his master or Sebastian. His lips twitched. How shrewd the master was to let him sleep with Yves the first night. How very shrewd indeed. 

He thought of his own master. Jamie was reasonable enough to know that his own master did not possess the same amount of observation and tenacity that Holden did. In the pale light of morning, Jamie realized that fear was not appropriate. Holden did not deserve his flights of frightened behavior. If he had been left in the clutches of that noble, Argounov, then that would have been a different story.

No, after the day before and his own optimism, Jamie knew he could relax. He was just bored and unsure what he was supposed to do now. He didn't figure that he would have long to wait. Holden seemed to run a smooth household. He would just have to wait. Jamie had never been good at waiting or patience.

He was bored and lonely. Jamie hugged himself. He wasn't used to being alone. His master was always near. With his hand in his hair, his hand on his groin as he sat on his lap, Jamie was used to being touched and hugged. He worried his bottom lip, what about sex?

A tap on the door startled him. He waited for the door to open. When it didn't, he was flummoxed. Was he supposed to invite whoever it was in? Surely if it were the master, he would just come in. The second tap was a bit louder. Just because Holden had asked him about Avonella, he was still unsure of the rules of Tenarus. At home, his room was his sanctuary. Was it here?

"Come in?" he croaked out, he could hear the question in his tone and winced.

The sunny blonde head heralded Yves' arrival. For some unknown reason, Jamie blushed and ducked his head. He wasn't used to being shy. But being comfortable in the arms of an unknown male slave despite the situation was unnerving.

The bed shifted as Yves sat beside him. "Good morning, Jamie."

"Good morning," he replied quietly.

Yves' bright blue eyes were searching. "I am here to get you cleaned up and take you to breakfast."

"I'm not a child," He replied, his cheeks burning. He hadn't been attended to during bathing in years. The baths he took with the master didn't count; he thought fiercely, he hadn't been in the right frame of mind. It was his job to attend the master. What kind of slave rules did the place have?

The older slave continued to study him, "I know things are different here. There is still much that needs explaining but that is for the master. Please," Yves reached out and then seeming to think better of it, let his hand drop back into his lap. He stood and gestured towards the door, "Until the master gives the order, you are not to be alone in the house. That includes bathing, so come on." He gave Jamie a gentle smile, "I'm hungry."

Jamie wanted to scream. Being frightened, naked, and bound had some grounds for patience. Being of sound mind and being bathed like a toddler was a completely different. He liked Yves; he had from the moment of kindness in the market. But friendly acquaintance only went so far. Jamie held himself rigid and refused to meet the other slave's gaze as sure hands washed him from head to toe and everywhere in between. He hissed like a cat when his cock wouldn't obey his mental order of 'stand down!' Oh no, it had a mind of its own and stood proudly and twitched greedily at every feather light stroke of cloth between his legs.

His face heated with embarrassment and he refused to look at Yves as they stepped from the tub. He felt the soft towel wiping the moisture away. Chancing a look over his shoulder, Jamie saw that Yves was focused on drying his own body and setting about toiletries.

Biting his lip, he took his own hard flesh in his hand. He needed to get off so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself any further. He yelped when a hand covered his own. Snatching his hand away, Yves’ dropped as well. Jamie stared at him in shock. The slave’s mouth was firm and uncompromising but there was sympathy in the bright blue eyes.

“You can’t.” Yves stated with a wave of his hand towards his groin. “That belongs to the master.”

“Y-y-you m-m-mean…” Jamie stuttered, realization sinking in his gut.

Yves nodded, “Only with the master’s permission.”

Jamie allowed the older slave to manipulate his body. Arms rose to accept the tunic sliding over his head and shoulders, the quick strokes of the brush through his hair, and then a warm hand taking his own leading him out of the bath and down the stairs.

Shaking himself, he realized that his cock was still hard and aching. How was he supposed to follow that rule for…how was he supposed to last for ten days with no release?

His knees gave out and slumped at Holden’s feet. He bit back a whimper when long fingers brushed through his hair.

“I’m surprised, kid.” Holden’s voice was so deceptively soft. Jamie looked up. “You’ve gone from terror to defeat? I don’t think so.” The fingers trailed over his ear, down the side of his face, and under his chin. “What’s wrong?”

How could he say it? It was really ridiculous if he gave it more thought. But tears were streaming down his face. When had that happened? Holden’s elegant fingers were brushing them away before drawing him and onto his lap. Jamie shuddered and instinctually curled into the safety that the arms and chest provided. Damn it, it wasn’t just about sex and being horny. It was about being lonely and lost without his master, his anchor.

Something cool touched his lips. Cracking open an eye, Jamie realized that Holden was offering him a grape. He accepted it and the sweet tangy taste was so good. He resolved himself to his fate and resolutely ignored the fact that his cock had not gone down. Oh no, it was making it present known quite obscenely.

But the master, Holden, he thought furiously, ignored his current state. He was fed efficiently and when he could take no more, Holden kissed his forehead and eased him back onto the floor. The raised eyebrow was significant enough. Jamie pulled his body into a proper kneel and waited.

And waited.

He fidgeted. He squirmed, feeling his heels digging into his buttocks. He was better than this, he reprimanded himself. He could kneel at this master’s feet for hours. But there were things that his master did to center him and keep him still. His master would put a hand to his hair, encouraging him to lean against his thigh, or curl like a cat at his feet while he worked.

Jamie bit his tongue to keep from growling. He could hear the cutlery clattering and the conversation that flowed all around the table. Jamie was uncomfortable and discontent with his cock begging for attention and he was being ignored. He wanted to do something very stupid, like getting up and walking out of the room without permission. At least then, the man would remember that he was there. But then he remembered the terror of being tied to the whipping post, the deep bathtub that he could easily be drowned in, or even hung from the hook in the training room. His body was trembling and his features settled into a deep frown.

The emotional ups and downs were wearing him out even if he had more than an ample amount of sleep. He wasn’t tired just drained. Holden wasn’t going to damage him or kill him. Jamie just wished the master wouldn’t ignore him. 

Holden pushed himself away from the table and walked to the door. Jamie heard him sigh and say, “Come on, kid.”

Jamie felt stiff and ill at ease as he followed the master back into the training room. His fingers tugged at the hem in of his tunic and his head lowered.

“Being a slave in Tenarus isn’t all that different as in Avonella, the cultural differences aside.” Holden began. “You have all the training and the instincts to do fine. What we need to address is the spontaneity that is accepted in Avonella but not here. You are completely subjected to the will of your master.”

Jamie wanted to snarl. He wasn’t stupid. He was his master’s.

“But you aren’t always, are you?” Holden’s breath wafted over his hair. “He may keep a tight reign on you, but you aren’t completely submitted to him.”

Every hair on his body stood up. What was that? Jamie trembled. He didn’t recognize that tone of voice.

“Free society and nobility will expect that submission. You’ll feel stripped down and exposed.” Jamie’s cock twitched. “You will never have to worry; your very existence is the purview of your master.”

Jamie’s hand went to his groin. The brush of the fabric made him moan quietly.

Holden’s arms went about him and pushed his hands to his side. His hair was swept aside, and the moist breath touched his sensitive skin, “That is your master’s. Not yours.”

Trembling and fearing rejection, Jamie pressed himself back against the warm body cradling him. “M-m-master?”

The butterfly brush of lips touched the juncture of his neck and shoulders, “Yes and no, kiddo.”

Jamie mewled. It wasn’t about the craziness. It wasn’t about the horror of being wrenched from his home. It was need and loneliness. It was no longer having some control of his body, his wants.

Strong hands gripped his hips and slowly turned him. Jamie looked up into the serious dark eyes.

“I want to see your body,” The tone swirled around him, making his nerve endings tremble. He stripped off the tunic quickly. He could see the ingenuity of the simple garment. Easy access, he thought stupidly.

“You want to come,” Holden was close again making it hard to breathe. Jamie nodded slowly.

“Show me,” the master trailed a finger over his shoulder and down his arm. It made his body ripple with gooseflesh.

The feel of his cock in hand made Jamie groan and snap his hips. Sex had never been denied him. His master had always used his body when he came of age. He had always been allowed to service his needs. 

But the feel of his needy cock was almost illicit. He wasn’t with his master. He was with Holden. Holden was viewing the almost secret, intimate act. He had never serviced himself in front of his master or Sebastian. It wasn’t even considered. His release was his master’s. His master’s hand on his cock as he was being fucked.

His master. Jamie’s eyes fluttered shut. The feel of his master’s hands on his body. The memories of the feel of his master in his body. The touch of his master’s kiss. His hips snapped forward and his release poured over his hand, making his toes curl and his breath to come out in pants.

Then he was held. Strong arms and the unknown but reassuring scent of Holden was so near. He relaxed. The sweet butterfly brush of lips touched his forehead.

“I know this is all new. Hell, this situation is new for me as well. But damn, Jamie.” Holden hugged him, “You are fucking gorgeous.”

He blinked up at Holden and smiled shyly, “Thank you, master.” And when Holden cupped his face he pressed into the touch.

It wasn’t his master’s touch. But it sure felt good.


	14. Cards and Cradles

Jer picked up a deck of cards and walked up the stairs. He thought he could talk Holden into a few hands. He just knew he could win this time and the winnings would be grand. He grinned to himself, plotting just what type of reward he would exact.

The quiet snap of a door closing made him pause at the top of the stairs. Holden was staring at it with an expression that was intriguing. It was part lust, part anxiety, and part anger. Jer knew the master was in need but who would he turn to? Him, Bran, or Yves? Holden gave a full body shiver and turned on his heel. He went down the hall and rapped on another closed door. Anxiety. 

Bran's blonde head appeared. Holden lifted the boy bodily and carried him into the room, the door slamming with a resounding crack. Damn.

The creaking of another door had him looking up. Yves met his gaze with resignation. Gripping the cards until they cut into his hand, he made his way to Yves. The other slave just pushed the door open wider and accepted his presence without a word.

"This is just too fuck…mphm." Jer's eyes widened as Yves kissed him and maneuvered him backwards.

They landed on the neatly made bed in a tangle of limbs and seeking mouths. He filled his hands with soft blonde hair and pulled back sharply. Yves groaned as his long neck was exposed. Unable to resist, Jer sank his teeth into the tempting flesh, moving them until they lay side by side.

"Not that I won't do whatever you want, but we need to talk," He said hoarsely against the wet bitten skin.

Yves flopped onto his back and covered his eyes with his arm. Jer lay beside him. If there was one thing he knew well, neither Holden nor Yves could stay quiet for long. And he had offered, saying they needed to do the whole conversation thing.

"It's not the kid's fault," Yves said with a gusty sigh. 

Jer's lips twitched. Nope, Yves had been with Holden for too long. He wouldn't get to the point quickly with as few words as needed. He pushed himself up onto his elbow and tugged on Yves' arm.

"It's not his fault that the whole household feels off kilter. What was the master thinking, bringing this on himself?" Blue eyes were wide and questioning.

Jer lifted a shoulder, "You were there. I wasn't. But from what the master told me, it was pretty fucked up."

Yves nodded, "You wouldn't have wanted to walk away from it either. But this is not what the master does. Jamie's not a delinquent. His training is okay. He does not need the master's hands on training."

Jer's eyes narrowed, "You aren't jealous, are you?"

"What? No!" Yves sat up abruptly. "But the master isn't really the kid's master. So how can he? Well, the kid still has…" Yves tugged at the ends of his blonde curls. He was just too adorable sometimes, Jer thought with a smirk. "The master isn't going to lay a hand on or put his cock in that kid. He's going to be a boiling pot of sexual frustration and that's going affect us all."

At his snort, Yves glared at him. Jer laid back and tugged the other slave down on his chest. "Do you want to fuck him?"

Yves thumped his chest with his head, "Like you don't. He's pretty and has a cute ass besides."

"Sure I do, but at the master's discretion." His lips twitched at Yves' groan. "What the hell happened? The kid was all teary eyed this morning, which was surprising with the way his tunic was being lifted like a tent."

"I had to tell him that he couldn't…" Yves made an airy motion over Jer's groin.

"Ah."

"And then the master had a session with him."

Jer's fingers went into Yves' curls and lightly scratched over his scalp. The resulting purr had his own cock responding happily.

"Jamie looked very satisfied when the master brought him back to his room." Yves mumbled. His skull pressed into Jer's hand and his slender thigh settled between Jer's legs.

"And that is why the master looked so dissatisfied."

"Mmmhmmm," Yves' nimble fingers were pushing the cloth of Jer's tunic upward. Jer lifted his hips obligingly. "Which means the master did not fuck the kid and won't fuck the kid. Ten days is a very long time."

"Eight, genius," Jer replied bringing Yves' mouth onto his.

"Exactly," Yves mumbled once more against his lips.

Tunics landed on the floor. Lubricant was grappled out of the drawer. Yves' sweet ass lifted as Jer sank deep within him.

Jer kissed the side of his neck and gripped his hips, "What were we talking about?"

Yves rocking back onto his cock was answer enough.

*~*

He sat in the nursery holding his son. Nicolette had handed him over without a word and disappeared.

Augustus peered up at him. His eyes were dark and frowning. He couldn't decide if he looked like himself or his mother. He wondered what went through a child's mind.

Strangely enough it brought to mind his first days with Jamie. They had both been children. Jamie is constant shadow from the time he was five. Jamie grew into a man and became a man under his hands. He knew his boy was reeling.

He was very possessive when it came to his slave but not unreasonably so. Jamie was allowed to play with whomever he wanted as long as he granted permission. He never shared his boy willingly unless they talked about it in great depth. Jamie never went to another's bed unwillingly.

He had also never gone a day in his life without the prospect of sex. When he punished his boy, he never withheld sex. It demoralized Jamie and it was quite the punishment for himself as well.

Augustus squirmed and his frown deepened. He chuckled mirthlessly. Maybe his son looked more like him than his mother. He could feel the mirroring frown on his own features.

How was his boy doing? In a home full of strangers was he coping? He could feel the stirrings of anger and recrimination. Even if he wanted to howl and thump his chest in a possessive rage, Jamie had done nothing wrong. If there was blame, it was all his.

The baby gave a huff and the serious dark eyes drooped until they closed. He lifted the precious bundle onto his shoulder and patted his back gently.

The woman, Alix Jameson, had called and asked for a meeting on the next day. She had been much more tactfully saying that there were issues to discuss. Not like the bastard upstart, Larssen, had the nerve to say he needed training.

Guilt twinged once more. It was not Larssen's fault either. He had stepped in and protected Jamie when he hadn't been able to. Holden could have stayed out of it, but he hadn’t. The fault lay with him and letting lust override his better sense.

He placed Augustus into his bed. The baby lifted his head and stretched. He patted his back until the head dropped onto the bed and the breathing evening out.

Stretching, he thought of his beautiful boy. He left the nursery quietly not surprised to find Nicolette hovering. He reached out to her and ignored the flinch. He kissed her forehead and ushered her into the nursery. He ignored her surprised look and shut the door quietly.

Sebastian was curled up in his wife's arms. He did not approach them. His wife's eyes were unreadable. He wasn't up for a heated debate. Instead he walked down the stairs and out into the heat of the afternoon.

Tenarus was so different from his home. There was no lake to help bring the temperatures down in the mornings and the evenings. Cars drove by but no one waved. People seemed to keep to themselves. That's what they should have done. They should have kept to themselves until they had a better grasp of the new environment. Instead of going to the party, flaunting themselves before unknown nobility, they should have listened to Jamie.

Antonio tipped his hat and continued on. His gnarled hands had no pity on the weeds trying to creep into his flowerbeds. He jerked them out by the roots. The flowers had lost their spring time bloom. Left behind were the hearty green leaves fighting the summer heat.

He found a garden bench beneath the shade tree and stretched his legs. Jamie would adapt well. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine the sweat slick naked back as his beloved stretched like a cat in the sun. 

He would have to bend. He would have to address allowing his boy getting close to strangers. He would have to trust Holden Larssen to make the best decisions for his boy. If that meant bedding him or punishing him, just the thought made his stomach cramp. He would have to acquiesce.

In the shade of tree, he admitted to himself that he was lonely.

*~*

The windows were open and the curtains were drawn to allow the cooler evening air in. The house needed to breathe after the high heat of the day.

They all needed to breathe after such an intense day, Holden thought irritably. His hand carded through Bran's silky soft hair. He looked around the room and sighed quietly.

Alix had Greta's head on her knee as she read through the day's mail by lamplight. Jer and Yves were almost secluded in shadow but the grunt of approval or snarl of disgust let him know how the card game was progressing. He wondered what the stakes were. Bran curled in his lap, pliant and sated.

Then there was Jaime. The dark red hair sparked fire in the soft lighting. He knelt at Holden's feet, quiet and still. He was glad that he had allowed the boy to relieve himself. He was much more subdued and settled. And by the Ash, he was about to shoot that all to hell.

Clearing his throat, he sought Alix first. She gave him an encouraging smile before returning to her letter. The card game quieted and even Bran stirred, blinking sleepily. Only Jamie kept his head down and did not react. He really was a good boy. He was probably thinking that he was about to address household business. A household that he did not belong to but was allowed contact on the periphery.

"Tomorrow, I want Jer and Yves to take Jamie to the market." He noted the automatic tension in Jamie's shoulders. He reached out and stroked a hand down the long red hair. "You need some practical interaction. You are dressed in my house's color. It won't be like your first experience. Besides," his lips quirked as he grinned at Jer, "You'll be in very good company."

"As it please, master." Jamie responded quietly.

Bran moved in his lap. His lips sought his temple with a reassuring kiss. "You will be going with Alix and me."

"Master?"

He could hear the question and he looked down at Jamie's bowed head. No, he wasn't going to hurt the kid this soon. Not now. "We are going to see a buyer who wants to be put on our list, sweetheart." He ran his hand up and down Bran's back and encouraged him back down against his chest.

Bran may have been satisfied but he could feel the weight of knowing eyes. Gray and blue, Jer and Yves knew that there was more than he was saying. Looking back at the dark firelight hair, he would talk to them both in bed. He wasn't needy. He was pretty secure with his three boys as well as his relationship with Alix.

But Jaime had added a distinct uncertainty in the air. Who the hell was he kidding? He needed the reassurance that he wasn't fucking things up. And with that he needed his boys. Hugging Bran he looked across at Yves and Jer. They had returned to their card game. He needed all three of them.


	15. A Buyer's Market

Holden drummed his fingers on the seat. Alix met his gaze in the rearview mirror before returning to the road before them. He could feel Bran shift once again. He knew the curiosity was eating at him but wouldn’t ask.

He encouraged Bran to lean against his knee so he could feel the silky hair beneath his fingertips. Hearing the happy sigh, he focused his attention the scenery streaming by.

“We aren’t going to meet a new buyer, sweetheart.”

Bran went completely still under his hand before the luminous eyes lifted in question. No, Bran might be curious but he wouldn’t ask out right, not without permission anyway. That was part of Jamie’s problem. 

The boy was beautiful in his orgasm but became quite chatty in the aftermath. Holden, still at odds with their unique situation, didn’t punish him physically. Not that he would have in the beginning with any delinquent, but he tried to get the young foreign slave to understand that slaves in Tenarus were often seen but not heard. They were not forced into silence but were expected to have a level of decorum that deferred to the master or the mistress.

“But why?” Golden eyes had been wide and almost innocent.

There was the question. Why? Even now, he felt restless and sweaty. Because I say so wasn’t going to help the kid in the least bit. So he had tried to talk through manners and laws, noble sense of propriety. That had earned him a snort and a roll of the expressive eyes.

“That right there, kid,” Holden had said firmly. “That would be seen as breach of protocol and rudeness reflected on your master.”

He had circled the kid and watched the fidgeting. Jamie’s face was almost as open as his Bran’s. He could read the most minute thought. Holden would concede that most nobles were too lazy or stupid to watch for the same things, but some as hawk eyed as Argounov would pounce.

Holden had been around the business enough to see through the restlessness. He was enough of a betting man to know that Jamie probably ended up over his master’s knee on occasion. That and the tell tale cane marks on his upper thighs below the beautiful rounded buttocks. Jamie had overcome his terror and was trying the boundaries, most likely unconsciously, but still trying.

So he paced around the kneeling, sexually pleased young man. He wouldn’t give the kid pain, he wasn’t the actual owner. And as much as would like to give the boy a good fucking, if he were in the duke’s shoes and the roles were reversed? Even now sitting in the backseat of the car, he could feel the wave of possessive rage.

Jamie didn’t earn a spanking or a fucking. But Holden didn’t let the opportunity for training to pass.

Closing his eyes, Holden could see the naked, shivering body facing the corner with his back and ass exposed. He talked the kid down until he went from fidgeting and mutinous to quiet and still. It amazed him then and now at how easy the boy dropped for him. The state carried over through dinner and in the parlor in the evening. Still, demure, perfect, and his cock twitched. 

Bran’s questioning eyes brought him back to the present. “We are going to visit Jamie’s master, the exiled duke of Avonella.”

*~*

He watched as Alix and the Princess excused themselves into what looked like a library or parlor. His wife gave him an encouraging smile. Encouraging, right, he might as well save his breath. The duke was a pot of simmering rage.

Holden sat across from him while the duke railed and pounded his hands on his desk. He would gesture wildly before raking his hands through his dark salt and pepper hair. He really could sympathize. He had Bran at his feet, his hand in his hair. Jamie was at the market with Yves and Jer.

“Are you quite done?” He asked. When the duke turned an unhealthy shade of red, he might have not went about it the right way. But what could he say? Dumb assed nobility were just asking for it.

And predictably the duke swore and pushed away from his desk. Holden reclined and kept a reassuring hand on Bran. When the duke sat back down with a heavy thud, Holden bit the inside of his cheek, “Now we can talk.”

The duke surprised him. Once his bitterness and gall had been expelled, he listened. His head was downcast but his questions were thoughtful with a hint of shame. As it should be, was Holden’s knee jerk reaction. But the agonizing pain in the dark eyes earned his pity.

“Mr. Larssen,” Rinaldo wet his lips nervously. Holden waited. Finally the duke sucked in a breath and his words came out in a rush. “Jamie is a sex slave. Despite our cultural differences, Jamie is going to feel at a loss. He’s…” The smile was telling as well, it spoke of love and indulgence. “He is impulsive and as we discussed, it is not prudent. I have Sebastian to work with, to go over the guidelines that you have presented. But what about my boy?” The jaw twitched and Holden understood the major concession that was about to be offered very begrudgingly.

Holden considered his words, “By Tenaran law, Jamie is my possession.” Bran tensed under his hand but he couldn’t be distracted, “And as such, I can do whatever I want with him.”

The wounded growl was understandable but the duke had thought with his little head not the one on his shoulders, and Jamie had almost bore the brunt of the outcome. From what little bit of the boy’s personality he had grasped, Jamie was willful, exuberant, loyal, and undeniably gorgeous. He was secure in the role of his master's favored slave. Argounov's intention,that kind of public, humiliating punishment, would have damaged the boy irreparably. He had a first hand account of that kind of breaking. Hollow, listless eyes with no hope, giving up and giving in were still a pain in his heart. His fingers stroked the back of Bran’s neck, still asking for forgiveness.

“I can assure you,” Holden’s voice thickened, “I will take care of him as if he were one of my own.”

Dark eyes studied him for a long time. Holden could still see the pain that finally turned to acceptance. The Duke gave a slight nod before resting his chin in his hands. It wasn’t etiquette, but Holden had read people for along time. He knew a dismissal when he saw one. With a hand on Bran’s shoulder, he turned to leave. He stopped and turned back. Surprise flickered as he reached out and offered his hand to Rinaldo.

The shake was firm as was the pact. Jamie was in very good hands.

As they got back into the car, Alix met his gaze once more as they pulled away from the simple home. Her face was a bit pale but he had known her for years. She had gossip and she was going to share.

“You aren’t going to believe this…”

*~*

Jamie followed behind the older slaves respectfully. He wanted to ask a million questions. How could a simple tunic fix all the problems he first encountered at the market? How could all Tenarans be so repressed? What were the customs on sharing slaves? Was he going to go the next eight days without being touched? 

Just the hint of the master’s powerful personality had him horny as hell, even with permission to come the day before. But a small lesson learned, keep his mouth shut and his ears open. He wanted to hear that delicious dark tone that seemed to touch him all over.

He felt guilty. He loved his master but he felt overwhelmed by Holden Larssen.

Jamie looked up in just enough time to keep from crashing into Jer’s broad back. Yves met his startled look over his shoulder.

“Easy, kiddo.”

Jamie wanted to bristle and he wanted to hide. He wasn’t a kid. He had been taking care of his master for a very long time. So he flushed hotly and looked down at the simple sandals on his feet.

He nearly moaned at the warm hand that rubbed his nape. Expecting Yves, he was surprised to find the hand connected to Jer. Not that Jer wasn’t comforting, wasn’t nice, he was just more brusque and to the point. When it came to gestures, from what he had observed, it screamed Yves not Jer.

But looking up into the iron gray depths, in the face that was similar to his master, Jamie felt the yearning and the need. Fuck, he thought furiously, how was he going to make it through the next eight days if Holden wasn’t around?

“You have the list?” Jer was just as brusque and to the point as he thought but the touch to his neck was gentle. The long fingers had slid under the weight of his hair that had been pinned back.

Not trusting himself, Jamie nodded.

Marketing went fairly smoothly. Jer and Yves answered any questions that were presented about his presence. When he forgot himself, and opened his mouth, Jer’s broad hand squeezed his hip. That was distraction enough, the feel of being touched and his cock that wanted to be frisky yet again. He didn’t need that embarrassment in the brevity of the green tunic.

The heat was still oppressive. He cast a longing look to the shaded wall but followed Jer and Yves dutifully. The market experience had been a learning one, much of what he thought the master wanted. Jamie would talk over his findings with Sebastian and Nicolette when he returned home. Sebastian would listen to him, Nicolette? Probably not.

He stumbled. He missed his family. Jamie’s heart thudded painfully as he kept his feet under him. He didn’t want to be an embarrassment to the two older slaves. Just because they were babysitting him and treating him like a child, didn’t mean he had to live up to expectations. 

Returning to the master’s house and sorting out the provisions in the kitchen was anticlimactic. But then again, he wasn’t in his master’s home. He shouldn’t expect a hug or a loving touch. His heart thudded once more. Looking out the window, the sun was moving which meant evening was approaching. Then it would be seven more days.

Just seven more days, he thought again. He shifted his hips and decided that unless Holden was merciful, it would be seven days of erections and blue balls.

The slamming of the front door made Jamie jump. He caught the significant look that passed between Jer and Yves. If the master was in the slave training business, then wouldn’t visiting a potential buyer be status quo?

His eyes narrowed. Something else was going on. A something that he wasn’t privy to. His shoulders drooped. He was homesick. He wanted everything to make sense once more.

Yves took his hand and guided him into the parlor. He knew better than try and snatch his hand away. Yves was nice and following the master’s orders. 

Holden was standing in the middle of the room with Bran in his arms. His face was drawn and pensive. Jamie didn’t think it had anything to do with Bran. More it looked like the master was thinking over a puzzle and hadn’t solved it yet.

That was until the dark eyes zeroed on him. He felt his knees weaken. He should be kneeling under the weight of that gaze. Holden’s hands moved up and down Bran’s back slowly. Jamie had to bite his lip to keep from keening. He wondered what it would be like to be touched and cared for by the master.

Holden cleared his throat with a cough. “Yves, come here.” 

Jamie felt bereft without the warm skin against his own. Holden’s arm extended to draw the blonde in and against his chest.

There was more silent communication between Jer and the master. Jer’s hand replaced Yves’ and tugged on him.

“Come on, kid.”

Jamie thought Jer would escort him back to his room so that the master could have time with his slaves. His, not with the interloper. His gut clenched when they entered the training room.

He shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Jer wasn’t any help. The gray eyes were guarded and the lined face was serious. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing. Thinking that kneeling would be the better option, he stopped mid-kneel as Holden made his way into the room. 

Jamie felt like he was watching a rock tumble down a cliff and he was going to be squashed. Holden did not stop until he stood right before him. Jamie’s knees weakened once more when the elegant hands cupped his face.

He soared when Holden’s mouth covered his own.

He barely heard Jer’s comment of “It’s about fucking time.”


	16. Round and Round We Go, Where We Stop....

"I want you to obey me," Holden's breath gusted over Jamie's ear causing him to shudder.

He stared wide eyed as he licked his kiss swollen lips. Without thinking, he took in a breath to ask a question. The fingers against his nape squeezed a warning. His mouth shut with an audible snap and he nodded.

Jamie stood very still as Holden stripped him to his skin. It wasn't like any other interaction with the master. Holden studied him and it made him want to hide his groin, to feel safe, and not to feel as exposed. But when he moved his hands, the flare in the liquid dark eyes had him reconsidering.

Holden stepped up to him once more. Jamie's lips tingled in anticipation but Holden by passed them in favor of his ear again.

"Trust me, Jaime. Know that you aren't going to do anything wrong and that there will be nothing to forgive."

Jamie trembled and screwed his eyes shut. His master, his beautiful master, how did Holden know? He had to…Jamie stared at Holden and took a step back. He shook his head in denial. He wanted to deny Holden, the master, his very right to his body. He wanted to deny Holden for the sake of his master, for the guilty sense of betrayal. But most of all he wanted to deny his treacherous body and its response to Holden.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, causing Jamie to jump and yelp loudly. Another warm breath touched his ear, “Easy, kid.” Jer ordered huskily before dipping into the juncture of Jamie’s neck and shoulder.

Pressed against Jer there was nowhere to run. Jamie tried looking down as he was trained but then he would not be able to see the master, what the master wielded, or see those large beautiful hands cup his face.

“Jamie,” Holden’s voice was deep causing a shudder to ripple through his body. “You have permission,” slender fingers wrapped around his straining cock. Holden’s dark eyes seared his very soul, “You have permission.”

Soft lips claimed his mouth, strong hands steadied his hips, and Jamie’s eyes went wide with understanding. Permission! He only fucked with permission. His master’s permission, not Holden’s, Jamie gasped and kissed Holden hungrily. Jer’s laugh whispered over his shoulder. He could only come with Holden’s permission. He lurched forward into Holden, who held him gently. He was going to be used, to be touched.

Jamie tucked his head into the crook of Holden’s shoulder and felt his feet being lifted off the floor.

“Here, master?” Jer’s voice was still close. Jamie turned his head slightly. He looked so much like his master, from his younger days. Jamie licked his lips and wanted to taste. He turned his attention back to the curve of Holden’s jaw. Surely the master would let him. Surely.

“No,” Jamie felt the brush of lips against his hair. He pressed closer to the delicious warmth of being held. “Upstairs.”

The emotional upheavals were too much, the ups, the downs, the wildly jagged turns. Jamie lay still, appreciating the softness of the bed against his back and the view of two fucking gorgeous men from beneath his lashes.

Holden took Jer into his arms and while Jamie figured that the master wanted him to think that he was kissing Jer’s neck, the almost imperceptible nod from Jer squashed the illusion.

He sucked in a breath when those iron gray eyes raked over him from head to toe. Jamie wanted to cover his groin, to protect himself from the hungry predator stalking towards him. The green tunic was whipped aside leaving Jer as naked as he, but with no vulnerability. Solid knees dipped the mattress as Jer moved closer and closer. Jamie parted his thighs with a whimper of need and apprehension. And like a predator scenting prey, Jer’s head tipped to the side. The lust still burned hot but the steel of his eyes softened fractionally.

Jer’s hands traveled along his calves, the outside of his thighs, he squeezed the boney points of Jamie’s hips when their groins came into contact. Jamie bit his lip hard at the exquisite drag of flesh against flesh. He wanted to thrust against Jer but the broad hands squeezed tighter, a warning that Jamie recognized and adhered to.

Being covered by Jer’s body and weight settled Jamie. It felt familiar, erotic, and unnerving at once. Turning his head, Jer slipped the leather binding from his hair. It spilled over his shoulders as he sought out Holden’s dark eyes.

“M-m-master?” Jer’s lips were sliding over his face, his brow, his eyes, his nose, his chin. A quick nip to his bottom lip detoured the pleasing sensation of Jer’s mouth on his neck.

“Yes, Jamie?” Holden’s voice was deep, husky. Jamie’s hips bucked in automatic reflex which in turn had Jer sinking his teeth into his skin causing him to gasp.

“You, master,” Jamie licked his lips and then cried out when Jer’s teeth captured his right nipple, the pressure on the side of exquisite pain. Gulping and twisting his hands into the sheets, Jamie sputtered, “You, master, have I displeased you?”

Jer’s snort against his navel had Jamie looking down in confusion. Jer just grinned as he shoved Jamie’s leg wider by the underside of his knee. All thoughts scattered when those blunt white teeth latched onto the juncture of thigh and groin.

Holden pushed his hair away from his face. His smile was authoritative but a little sheepish at the corners. “Have no doubt, kid, that at this moment you are mine.” Jamie lifted his head to meet the lips that brushed against his forehead, “I like to watch and trust me when I say you are going to like getting fucked by Jer.”

Jamie choked at the wet swipe of tongue that merged into a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock. He watched Jer seek out Holden. “Sweet and clean, master.”

“Good boy,” Holden muttered dipping down to take Jamie’s mouth. 

Jamie trembled as both talented mouths captured his body. In bed with one, attention was split between giving and receiving. With two, Jamie cried out as Jer sucked him in, tight, wet, and almost brutal. With two, it was too much to think, receiving meant giving up control of thought to the wash of sensations.

It was Jer drinking down his release, it was Jer’s blunt fingers opening his body with expert care, it was Jer that brought the burn that Jamie ached for.

But it was Holden’s arms holding him, it was Holden’s lips against his skin, it was Holden’s dark, liquid gaze anchoring him when he wanted to fly at the brutal snap of hips against him.

It was Jer against him as they panted in the aftermath of climax. But it was Holden that was straining for release. With his hand threaded in Jer’s dark hair, Jamie looked to Holden once more.

“Master?”

Holden’s expression had changed; gone was the foreboding, unknown strange master. In its place was a sweet gentleness, an affectionate regard that made Jamie’s chest swell a bit.

“What is it, sweetheart?” The long fingers carded through his hair, with just a bit of scratch of the blunt nails that made Jamie want to purr in pleasure. But he was still a slave and there was still a task at hand.

“If it please, my master?” Jamie bit his lip when Holden’s brow lifted in surprise. The fingers slipped from his hair and squeezed his nape gently. “Sure.”

Jer rolled to Jaime’s side with an expression of resigned exasperation. Unsure, Jamie’s hands trembled as he slowly pushed the tunic upwards over Holden’s thighs to reveal the flesh that had been clamoring for attention. Gulping, Jamie looked up to make sure he was not making a mistake, that he still had permission. Dark liquid eyes were unreadable but the expression on the master’s face was serene, no puckered brow or thinned lips to indicate anger.

Jamie put everything he knew into pleasing, he was being used once more and wanted to make the best of it before Holden took away the right. 

He kept his touches light against the soft skin of the master’s inner thighs. With his fingertips and nails, he teased the soft sac. Holden’s hand went to his hair, not pulling or shoving, just resting adding a layer of connection that made Jamie feel good and boosted his confidence as his mouth and tongue joined the dance of fingers. Holden sighed above him and his thighs widened slightly.

It was not as hard as he thought, not really. Holden might have been his master but like other nobles and his own master, he was just a man. A man with a cock, no more no more less when Jamie took him into his mouth, teased him with his lips and tongue, with the delicate scrape of teeth that had the master’s hand changing into a gripping fist within his hair. Slowly breathing through his nose, Jamie went lower and lower until his oxygen was cut off and his eyes watered with the strain.

“Fuck, kid,” Holden’s hips jerked signaling the spill of heat down his throat. Jamie eased back to swallow and taste until the spurting ended. He cleaned the wet flesh meticulously before scooting backwards and into Jer.

He froze but Jer’s arms wrapped about his hips and pulled him close. Jamie sagged, he was tired.

“Rest kid,” Jer said gently, bussing his forehead with a kiss, “you earned it.”

As he slipped towards sleep, he heard Holden’s quiet laughter, “Bout fucking time, indeed.”


	17. Less Sex, More Conversation Please

“Well?” 

Holden looked up from his book to see Yves standing in the shadows of the doorway. He closed the book with a snap and beckoned him to come near. Yves seemed reluctant but sat down on the bed. Not close but respectable, Holden wanted to sigh.

“Well what, darling?”

Yves did not respond. His blue eyes were serious and Holden’s gut clenched. He thought he had soothed them both. Bran’s eyes were clear and his face smooth when Holden checked on him before heading to bed. An empty bed, Alix was with Greta. Knowing that Yves would not willingly accept an embrace, he pushed himself up to sitting.

“It’s not what you think,” Holden began and Yves looked away. He touched the shoulder that trembled beneath green cloth, “Yves, sweetheart, look at me.” The bleakness in the bright blue eyes made his stomach roll. “Why has having Jamie here bothered you so?”

Yves straightened his shoulders and stared forward, “It is not my place to judge, master.”

Sighing, Holden pulled his knees closer to his chest. His age reminded him as his knees popped and creaked. “I can’t read your mind, Yves, you have to talk to me.”

“You fucked him.” The statement landed heavily between them.

“Yes and no,” Holden responded. “I was going to but that’s not what the kid needed. So I watched, was there if things got shot to hell and was there because the kid is gorgeous. Jer was good with him.” Yves seemed to wait, the silence almost an accusation, “And he used his mouth on me.”

Yves’ shoulders slumped fractionally. Holden reached out and pulled Yves to his chest, his knees and joints voicing their displeasure in the shift loudly. “What is it about Jamie that bothers you so?” He repeated, his lips against the soft silk of Yves’ hair.

“Besides the sheer fucked up-ness of the situation?” Yves replied, his head moved until he found a comfortable spot, to Holden’s right so that the nimble fingers could play across Holden’s chest and left nipple. The move was not made to arouse, but it was Yves’ in his arms and his body was well trained in its response. Holden shifted as well.

“Besides that.”

“There is something in the way you look at him,” Yves muttered, “I would say almost like Bran but the kid hasn’t had it that rough, but that something is different than all of the other delinquents combined. And the last time that happened…” He trailed off with a sardonic huff.

Holden thought for awhile until he had everything in order. Long enough that Yves had tensed once more, and as much as it pained, Holden moved them so that they were face to face.

“The situation is fucked up,” He began. “There’s Argounov, Jamie, the duke, the pending absolution, having the kid here instead of with his master, opening my big mouth when I should have kept it shut.”

Yves opened his mouth and then closed it. Holden prompted him by nudging his knee with his foot. “Not the last one, master,” Yves breathed, “Jamie might be a trained slave but even I…” He licked his lips, his blue eyes wide, “I don’t think I could have bore it.”

And with Yves’ strength, that was saying something. “And then there is my appreciation for a beautiful boy.” Holden watched as Yves’ lips thinned. “Why Jaime, my love?”

“Because it has been bubbling under the surface,” Yves said stoically, “More than it should be, even with all the issues you stated. Sometimes I wonder if you had fucked him on that first night, we would not be having this discussion.”

“Yves,” Holden said reproachfully.

The blonde head dipped forward and Yves’ chin touched his chest, “I know, I know, but even I’m allowed my moment, aren’t I master?”

Holden drew him back into his arms with a long, deep kiss. “First put yourself in my shoes,” Yves shuddered dramatically and caused Holden’s lips to twitch, “If it were you, or Bran, or Jer.”

“The house wouldn’t be standing.” Yves responded honestly.

Holden rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement, “Now put yourself in Jamie’s shoes now that the fear has subsided. He is very well trained but lacks control. You have noticed it?” Yves nodded. “I don’t think Avonella has the same expectations out of slaves as the nobility of Tenarus.”

Yves snorted quietly, “Among other things.”

Lifting a brow at that, Holden was side tracked, “Alix told me and I wanted to talk to you…mmphm.” Yves covered his own almost sweetly. “Right,” Holden licked his lips, chasing the taste of Yves, his body howling for more. “I thought I could give the kid pointers on form, on law, on Tenaran expectation to make the transition smoother. And that worked, but then there is the fact that he is a slave.”

Yves’ eyes blinked almost drolly. Holden huffed, “That’s not what I meant and you know it. He is a slave from a different country. From what the duke told me or rather sputtered most indignantly at me,” Yves’ lips twitched. “Jamie has been raised to service sex from a young age.”

Yves seemed to be deep in thought, “I did not give that much thought. It was a line in a historical text, but it did not have personal impact. I guess you read, a slave is a slave and that’s that.”

“And that big brain of yours holds too much information anyway,” Holden grunted at the elbow that pressed into him. “So I have a kid that has been schooled on sex when he should have been tugging on his mother’s apron, the kid is a new house with a bunch of strangers, being told things that are fundamentally different from the only life he has ever known, being told that he can’t touch himself,” Holden shifted once more. “He has a master that is a stranger; he feels like he is betraying his true master, even though he is a slave and has no say…”

“You both were about to explode.” Yves summed it up succinctly.

“Yes,” Holden let out a gusty breath. “I thought it would be like fucking a kid in training but those eyes, I couldn’t do it.”

“And you used Jer, instead.”

“Like he was kicking and screaming in agony,” Holden fisted Yves’ curls and tugged. “Jamie has latched onto Jer anyway, I can see a little bit of the resemblance to the duke.”

“So we aren’t getting a new kid to take up permanent residence?” Yves’ voice was playful with a hint of an edge.

“That would be a no,” Holden said easily. He rolled until Yves was stretched beneath him. “And that wasn’t your fear.”

“No,” Sandy lashes fluttered before exploding into wide open pools of blue, “But crazier things have happened.”

Holden laughed outright and pushed the tunic up well muscled thighs that spread willingly. “So will you be fucking him, master?”

“No,” Holden threw the tunic aside and cupped Yves’ face. “I have enough bed partners to keep my balls well drained, don’t you think?” Yves’ blushed and pressed into his touch. “However, it would be cruel to deny Jamie service and that I am limiting to Jer. He’s welcome to talk to you and Bran.” The low tone of his voice had a shiver rippling through Yves. “Jer has enough of a dominant personality to keep the youngster’s libido in check.” Yves’ laughed and nodded. “I’m glad you came to me, darling. I know this has been strange, but it will be just a few days more.”

Yves’ fingers threaded through his hair when he dipped down to nuzzle the soft down of his chest. “But there is still Lord Argounov…”

Holden let his weight relax against Yves, “Yes, and that meeting will be in the next couple of days.” He sighed when talented fingers began working over his shoulders and his back.

“One day at time, master,” Yves said.

That made him grin as he lifted up onto his elbow, “Now about these cultural differences, can you really believe…I mean, after all the drama with Greta, what will the village think when they get a load of…” He trailed off when Yves rolled them, him on his back and his beautiful boy straddled his hips.

“Master,” The blonde brow lifted upward and the smooth buttocks teased.

Holden gripped his hips and thrust upwards playfully, “A conversation for another time, my dear?”

Yves’ answer was a wicked nip of teeth that had all thoughts disappearing. What were they talking about, Holden thought with moan.


	18. Harbinger

“Holden,” Lady Laura Argounov greeted him. 

She was perched in a high backed chair, much like a queen on her throne, complete with kneeling supplicant. Not that he knew what her name was, she was blonde and young. The Argounov household held little interest for him, he had Jer. Still, his jaw rippled, he had to make nice.

“Laura,” he pressed a gentle kiss to her raised hand before stepping back. 

Her finely tweezed brow lifted, “He is waiting in his study.”

Holden gave a slight bow and murmured his thanks. Approaching the closed door was almost too much. Too many memories swamped him, too many emotions crashed and banged around inside. And the smell, his nostrils flared, had him considering turning on his heel and forgetting the whole mess. To approach the magistrate to see if there was away around the farce, his knock was sharp and to the point.

“Enter.” A wave washed over him, the years rolled back and he was young once more. Furious and fearful, proud and pining, that voice was so familiar it meant being on his face begging with his body to be the Master’s ‘good boy.’

Stiffening his spine, he opened the door. As the years marked the passing of time, the most stayed the same. Argounov was seated in his chair that faced the hearth. He was working with the twins, Dante and Yvette. 

He was bound by chain and bit, the marks of his recent beating still oozing. She was on her tiptoes, naked and sweating. Unbound and with Argounov’s fingers deep within in her body. Holden could see the minute shaking even as she drew blood to her bitten lips.

“Ah, Holden,” The silver head never turned away from the girl, “You remember this? A fine tool on orgasm control, she fails and he’s beaten. They haven’t learned the ranking system yet.”

Holden wisely stayed quiet and wanted to look away when she failed. Her body tensed, her hips jerked and she cried out as the orgasm brutally ripped through her. When he looked up, she was kneeling in tearful supplication. But Holden knew that tears and promises mattered little. Even now, Nikol was wiping his hands with a white handkerchief. He lifted the bell beside him. The tinkling made Holden’s lips peel back, as much as he wanted to, he kept silent.

A large, beefy slave dressed in the sickening white tunic appeared, Nikol barely acknowledged him. “Yvette is once again ranked at the bottom and Dante is to be placed in solitude until I can attend him.”

The slave bowed, “As it please, master.” 

Holden’s hands fisted as he watched them file away, the despair so thick he could taste it.

“Come, Holden, sit with me.” 

He had to make his legs move, to order his knees to bend, barely recognized the leather beneath him, and accepted the glass of whiskey. He wanted to bash the glass into the cheerfully snapping fire. Argounov’s eyes pinned him like a hawk would a mouse.

“I know why you are here,” his former master regarded him over the rim of glass; “Your time with the boy is almost up.”

Holden’s fingers tightened, “Yes, we need to discuss details and who will attend the…punishment.”

Nikol’s lips quirked into a wolfish grin, “Lucky that it will be almost unheard of to collect the same gathering of nobility after the party, what with most of the calendars filled with events planned in advance.”

Again, Holden held his tongue. It was fine line that he was treading; Jamie’s terrified eyes burning in his mind.

“A small gathering, in my salon,” 

It was an order and reasonable but it put Holden’s back up, “Agreed. Have the guest list couriered over by tomorrow.”

Argounov’s lips thinned, “Have you got the boy stretched and willing?”

Holden replied, “The manner of punishment will be agreed upon now. You will not use his body; you never received the right from Lord Peccati.”

Nikol crossed his legs at the ankle, “That is a matter of dispute.”

“To the point that the possession did not know the will of its master,” The words were bitter. It was why he did this alone; his boys could not hear him talk like this, ever. “A breach of conduct that you yourself would not accept when it comes to your own property.” He sneered then, “As such, at this moment, Jamie is my property and you do not have the right to take his body.”

The bitterness turned acidic at the thought of Jer being with him all those years, the sight of the bastard’s name every time he looked at Alix in her most vulnerable state, and so much more. Valor’s education and the business that the Argounovs sent their way did not tip the scales in justice.

Nikol’s chuckle made him burn more, “Then I shall determine the implement of punishment.”

He had to play the hand that was dealt. To protect Jamie from a brutal rape, he was sentencing him to bleed.

“You will be expected to pay recompense if he is bodily scarred or gravely injured.”

The unholy gleam made Holden ill. “I would like the contract with means of punishment included.”

“Ah yes, Holden, the savior of the slave,” Nikol’s words cut, “And still the little whore who wants to be a good boy.”

That phrase made him bleed. “We are done here. I shall send over any changes that I deem necessary be,” He stood and left without waiting to be dismissed. He did not acknowledge Laura’s call as he made his way into the air, into the light and away from the darkness of his past.

It lowered him that he had to pull the car over and stumble into the woods. He retched at the sheer wrongness of the world that they lived in. All he could do was prepare little Jamie, to be the trainer he was renowned as being. And by the Tree Ash, or whatever fucking spirits were looking down on them, have mercy.

It was Alix that waited for him in the foyer. It was her familiar scent and touch that pulled him close. It was Alix that led them to their bedroom. It was in Alix’s hands he let go and sobbed until he could no longer breathe or hold his head up. It was Alix that held him when he succumbed to sleep.

*~*

Jamie was learning. Holden, as master, was the pulse of the household. When there was a ripple or a wave, the master was at its center. 

The days and nights had been fairly uneventful. He kept close to Jer, sitting at his feet while the older slave scratched out images on paper that he did not understand. He did enjoy when he would push the paper away and his long fingers would bury themselves in Jamie’s hair. At night, instead of his small bed, Jer’s hand on his nape led him to another small bed to be curled against and kept warm by the much larger body.

Holden had explained how sexual service would be held while away from his master. He was at Jer’s command, Jer would decide when and how much sex he could have for the remainder of his stay. Jamie thought it was odd, that a slave could have so much power. Sure, Nicolette liked to play power games at home but she still relied on the mistress. But no one lifted so much as an eyebrow, so Jamie went with it. He liked Jer, the big hands, the dark voice, the face that looked like his master.

It also seemed to put Bran and Yves at ease. They banter flowed back and forth, the wary stiltedness was gone. But it brought Jamie’s thoughts back to Holden. He looked up to Jer who was studying the chessboard with a fierce frown. He pushed the piece to another square on the board. Yves’ peal of laughter made Jer’s frown deepen. It was probably not a good time and his recklessness could get him hurt in Tenarus, but…

“Jer?” He licked his lips nervously when the gray eyes snapped to his own. “What?” Not the friendliest of tones, so Jamie looked down at his knees that were exposed from beneath his tunic. He had never really paid much mind to the curling red hairs. Jer’s fingers tugged at his hair and made him look up once more. “It is nothing,” Jamie wanted to kick himself.

Jaime gasped when he was lifted bodily by hands under his arm pits to be sat quite forcefully on broad bare knees. He choked back a gurgle at being nose to nose with Jer. Only Yves’ quite cough of laughter kept his heart from leaping from his chest.

“Be nice, you brute.” Yves said blandly, the quite click of pieces made Jamie think that he was resetting the board for another game.

Jer’s focus did not waver, instead he order brusquely, “Talk.”

“It really is nothing,” Jamie stuttered out, balancing himself on Jer’s legs by placing his hands on the broad chest. He looked down and blushed, “I was just wondering where the master was.”

Holden had been almost conspicuously absent. In so that it wasn’t a ripple but a wave that Yves and Bran huddled together, quiet conversations with the mistress, and Jer sending him to bed much earlier than the rest of the household. The one thing had puzzled and worried Jamie was when the messenger came by, the visit had resulted in loud crashes and thuds from the training room.

“Have I done something to offend?”

His question seemed to startle Jer but it was Yves that answered by turning him with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“The simple answer is that it is not you, kiddo,” The lines around Yves’ eyes deepened, “but you know what day it is.”

That made Jamie pause. Biting his lower lip, he counted and his eyes widened, “Four more days.” He shivered automatically sinking into Jer, looking for comfort.

“Exactly.”

Bran cleared his throat from the doorway. “Jamie, the master has requested your presence in the training room.”

Jamie went pale and began to shake. He felt Jer’s lips against his temple even as Yves helped him to his feet. The long days that seemed like forever now were rushing by much too fast. Four days, four days he would face his punishment at the hands of Lord Argounov. The pain warred with the slow building hope of seeing his master once more.

His steps faltered behind Bran’s quick steps. Would his master still want him after the change in him, the changes Holden had brought about in him?

Pushing it away, he went to the center of the training room without looking around. He sank down onto his knees, focused on his posture, and waited.

And waiting was an unmerciful bitch.


	19. Hands, Hide, and Misguided Deeds

“Come here, Jamie.”

Jamie sucked in a breath through his nose and blinked. He wasn’t sure how long he had been kneeling but long enough for the world to go hazy. And in that world, the only thing that existed was the master.

The wide palmed hand traveled over his shoulder in a soft caress much like the voice that was insisting that he stand. Jamie was grateful that the arms that belonged to those hands wrapped about his shoulders and pulled him close. He nuzzled the soft fabric of the tunic, somewhere between night and dawn, neither black nor blue. Then his head was being pulled back gently to meet the dark eyes that had heavy lines about them. Lines that did not mean anger, but concern, worry, fear. Jamie blinked again and with a slow movement tried to smooth the lines away with his fingers. Eye lashes fluttered against his skin, like the frantic beat of a butterfly’s wing before skin met skin, when the master accepted his touch and pressed into it.

“Jamie,” he looked up once more. The lines were there but the dark eyes were softer, concern yes, but also a gentle affection that made Jamie proud that it was directed at him.

“Yes, master?”

The eyes closed briefly, a flinch that Jamie wanting to soothe once more but Holden pulled back. A curtain seemed to separate them, Holden’s features firming. Bracing against a task, an unpleasantness that had Jamie trembling, Holden had never hurt him. No he had stepped in to keep him from getting hurt and Jamie knew his time had run out.

Holden’s hand gripped his as he was led to the wall that held the things that could hurt, that could overwhelm, that could make him fly. Without waiting, his shaking hand trailed down the thin wood, his buttocks clenched in reflex. His mind pictured his master, his sweet loving master, with sweat beaded across his forehead, his lips open as he panted, the heat of his hands as he maneuvered Jamie to the waiting bed, the taste and touch of his master telling him it was okay to slide into the dark because he would be there when he walked into the light.

“Jamie.”

Holden’s hands were beautiful. They covered his own hand, a pale apparition beneath the tanned ridges and soft plains. Relaxed and pliant, his hand was lifted and placed much further down the way, his feet shuffling to keep his balance. It really a small, almost innocuous object and in ways of dramatics, very little, it just hurt. The only time it had ever been used on him, he had been ten and his master had never forgiven himself on the outcome. Surely, Holden would not use that. As his fingers were maneuvered down the blunt suppleness, his stomach cramped painfully. Holden’s hands never withdrew. Jamie blinked and shuddered, those hands were going to show him pain.

*~*

Jamie’s skin went pale and tiny beads of sweat gathered on his top lip. Fuck Nikol, he wanted to snarl. And fuck him sideways for not seeing the big picture, Holden thought. Oh no, he the big bad skillful trainer with well honed observation skills decided that because his newest acquisition could handle caning then a mere strapping could be handled. It had even surprised him when Agrounov had chosen a simple, hardly dramatic form of punishment. He had nearly wrecked his training room trying to see what he was missing and in then end, deciding that there could have been much worse, much bloodier means agreed.

And Jamie was about to pass out in his arms from fear. Hugging the boy closer, taking his hands off the strap, Holden felt liking flailing. How the fuck were they going to pull this off?

Lifting the strap off of its hook, Holden led Jamie where they could sit side by side, their thighs close together, with Holden’s arm behind Jamie’s back bracing him. The black strap was balanced across both of their legs. Jamie’s naked thigh trembled as if he want to snatch it away but his training kept him still.

“What happened?” Holden kept his tone quiet, even if it was a bit husky. He refused to clear his throat. He didn’t want the kid jumping out of his skin.

“I was ten.” Holden felt his eyebrows climbing. In all the time that he had spent with Jamie, the boy had never lost his character. From wide eyes in terror, lips panting in spent satisfaction, shy smiles that made golden eyes glow, Jamie was all was there, the boy and the slave one being. But this Jamie…eyes were mere chips of yellow brown, his skin pasty and sweating, his lips were colorless as the corners of his mouth remained tight. It was Jamie that was gone and the slave left behind. The flattened eyes never left the black smear of leather across his thigh.

“I was ten, my master fifteen,” A brief flash of tongue swiped along the tightened bottom lip, “I had fallen asleep while picking apples in the orchard. It had been after lunchtime and it was warm but under the trees was cool and dark. I had only thought to rest before returning. My master found me after full dark and had been angered. I apologized but my master did not hear it. It was the first time I had disobeyed him directly in front of witnesses. He whipped me in front of his father and his uncle. I remember the smells of alcohol and laughter and the leather being folded over and popped. He tied my hands above my head and said that it was going to hurt him more than me. And it did. I remember the pain but it was the sound of my master’s sobs that broke me. He followed his father’s suggestion of putting me into solitary for a day. And that was all I could hear, every flash of pain brought the sound of my master’s tears. I was a bad boy,” Jamie shuddered and met Holden’s gaze with silent tears tracking down his cheeks, “I don’t want to be a bad boy, master, I can be a good boy, please, please, I know it is not my place, I am a good boy, but please,” Jamie trembled as he stared down at the strap, his breath hitching, "don't."

Holden pushed the strap to the floor and gathered Jamie into his arms. The red head burrowed into the juncture of his neck and shoulders. How the fuck were they going to pull this off with time running out?

Holden needed a plan and in planning he would talk to his boys, but there was Jamie huddled and trembling in his lap. Unwittingly, he began to move back and forth, rubbing his hand up and down, feeling the bumps and knobs of a young spine. 

He kept it up until Jamie’s breathing steadied into the soft rise and fall of sleep.

*~*

Per the contract, it would be a gathering of Alix, himself, Laura, Nikol, the Peccatis, Andrei, and couple of nobles in business dealings with the Argounovs. So Holden arranged Jer, Bran, Yves, Alix, and Greta about the training room. Andrei had thought the summons strange and when he had discussed the evening's proceedings, Andrei went pale with denial. When he explained Nikol’s invitation more in depth the young noble’s mouth had thinned and his expression hardened. He gave one sharp nod before sitting on the small couch, near Bran. His boy’s gray eyes had sought his for approval before moving to lean against Andrei’s thigh. Andrei’s continued discomfiture was apparent in the way his fingers gripped Bran’s shoulder.

 

*~*  
Bran had shrugged uncomfortably as he mixed sweet smelling fruit in a bowl. His eyes were focused on the sifting of sugar as he finally said, “I could do it, if it were you, master, if every sensation, you were there. I know I would be safe, if it were you.”

 

Jer had thrown his book across the room. The loud snap followed by a soft plop of bent pages did not keep the fire from burning in the iron gray eyes, “Fuck him! It always about him! It is never enough, the humiliations, the domination, the tricks and traps to fall into!” He sucked in a breath, “Do what you do, if the kid didn’t have you, if we…” He strode across the wood floor on bare feet, wincing a little when he bent at the waist to pick up the mangled book, “Just do what you do.”

 

Yves had been more practical, because it was, well...Yves, “You can’t give him a whipping now, it won’t be enough of a recovery before the set time. And I can understand his fear, with what you told me. Give him a different association when it comes to the strap. Hell use Jer and the lesson will be more potent. The main thing is that he does not revert to the past. I agree with Bran, it has to be about you, master. Keep him here, keep him grounded and maybe by the Ash, it will work.”  
*~*

 

Holden rubbed his hands up and down Jamie’s back and ass before reaching around the stretched body, covering heart and hip. He kissed the warm, sweaty skin, “You ready kid?”

Jamie’s head tipped forward, his chin down, and replied, “As it please master.”


	20. One Sir, Thank You, Sir

The salon was well appointed. It was almost like the baths of old before the glory of his country’s seat of power waned. Shrubbery, the tinkling of water, the lounges and pillows strewn about the raised dais, above it the hook gleamed in its unholy power.

Larssen had been adamant about leaving Sebastian and Nicolette behind. 

He will need some room to process this event, my lord, without well meaning questions of his survival. 

As much as he did not like him, wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp, he could not argue with his logic. In fact the daily letters in no nonsense script warranted a modicum of respect. His wife almost fawned over the wife, Alix Jameson. His lips twitched despite the most dire of circumstance. You piss of his wife you received no recompense. To her, the Argounovs had been in cahoots to their embarrassment.

The fact that the genteel fawned over the infamous Slave Breakers, had helped, too. So much that at Jameson’s gentle urgings, his wife and Nicolette would sit for some etiquette induction. How his wife’s mouth would prune if it had even been hinted that she needed training.

He sat stiffly on the lounge and waved away the offer of refreshment. The gathering was small, some familiar and some not. Alix gave him a sympathetic nod of welcome. Which he returned before allowing his gaze to roam hungrily for his boy.

His Jamie

The doors of the salon were thrown open with a bang. Lord Argounov strode forward slapping the strap against his thigh. For once he was alone, no one to take the shine of his entrance away. He did however stumble when he realized the dais was empty.

He managed to gird his pride and he looked over with smug awareness. “So the terms are not met, my apologies, dear Duke, you will lose your property in the end.”

Bile burned and it was all that he could do to keep from surging to his feet. Larssen had been explicit, he kept is mouth shut and his ass in the chair.

A quiet cough drew everyone’s attention to the door. Larssen, flanked by his slaves, with Jamie at his side…

His Jamie

It had been ten days of hell. He wanted to fly to his boy and carry him away. He looked so different, in the green slave tunic, his hair pinned back and twisted up off his shoulders. He stood sedately at Larssen’s side, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders straight and proud, his large golden eyes staring straight ahead.

“This was not what we agreed upon, Holden,” Argounov’s voice was like oil, slick and spreading about the room.

Holden shrugged lazily, “You did not specify entrance and set up, Nikol.” Argounov’s face went stormy, “As owner, it is my purview. Now if you will step away, I have a job to do.”

Two of Larssen’s slaves slipped into the room ahead of their master and knelt at the feet of their mistress. It did its job because when he looked back, Argounov had retreated to the side and Holden led Jamie forward. They stepped onto the dais together. The words were too quiet but Jamie nodded and pulled the tunic over his head gracefully, folding it. Kneeling down, he placed the bundle of cloth of the edge of dais before standing once more.

He hoped that that he could put his boy back together again after this.

The duke blinked. Who was that standing off of the dais in Jamie’s line of sight, in Larssen’s slave green? And why was he giving Jamie a gentle smile?

*~*

“Remember everything we talked about?” Holden said quietly as held up the leather cuffs in front of Jamie’s nose.

Taking a deep inhale, he looked up at the worried dark eyes, “Yes, master.”

As Holden went through the practiced motions, His hands trailed over Jamie’s body, grounding him the scent and feel of Holden, just as they had done with the leather strap. Instead of shrinking in fear of his past, he began associating it with the smell and touch of Holden. Holden could not flog him with the upcoming punishment but they went through practice runs of light slaps against his skin. That and Jer always in front of him, looking at him with concern and gentleness. It hadn’t been easy, the first time a swat landed he fell to his knees and retched all over the training room floor.

“Easy, Jamie,” Holden brought his attention back, “You are tensing, sweetheart, focus on Jer.”

Looking at Jer, Jamie let his thoughts settle once more. Holden had talked to him about the painful sear of the cane and what the belt would do in the formidable trained hands of Lord Argounov. They had gone through swats while he held a cane between his fingers, merging the associations. And when he thought he was ready, Holden staged a trial run in front of the household with Lord Taganov in attendance. Granted the blows were not hard, but he was able to make it through with panicking or retching. He had survived.

Later, after sweaty sex with Jer, the elder slave did not push him off or leave him for the sanctity of his own room. Instead, the brusque Jer allowed him to rest his head against the warmth of his chest. And when he shivered, the big hand trailed down his back and over his ass, still warm but not aching with pain. He liked that Jer didn’t push his abundant hair away. Instead, he would play with ends before moving back to use the calming touch against his skin.

And it was Jer that had broke the quiet, “So kid, big day tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Jamie mumbled turning his head to nuzzle and mouth at the salty skin beneath him.

“You’ll do fine, the master will be there, your master will be there,” Jer’s fingers tightened around his hair and said fiercely, “You will be fine.”

“And you,” he had sought the gray eyes in the moonlight, “you’ll be there.”

An expression that he did not understand passed like a cloud over Jer’s features and his body tightened. As quick as it appeared it was gone and Jer was encouraging his head back down against the comfort of his broad chest, “I’ll be there, for you.”

Holden’s lips against his forehead made him sigh; everything was getting hazy around the edges. “Don’t forget to count, sweetheart.”

Jer was the only thing he could see. He tightened up at the sound of leather popping against leather and the nasty laughter off to his side. Jer just squinted and tossed his head. Thinking of the impatience and gruffness, Jamie could hear the unsaid words, Focus, kid, it is just getting started.

He could hear the den of voices but once again he let his world narrow down to Jer. He had to survive thirty lashes.

The first blow was fire across his buttocks. His fingers twitched uselessly in his bonds and his breath was sucked away. Jer gave another shake of his head with worried eyes.

Oh yeah, count. “One sir, thank you sir,” He croaked. 

And it was hell from there on. Jamie gauged the progress by Jer’s expressions, not by the heat that had gone passed the point of pain. His brain recognized the fire on his ass, the tops of his thighs, for him it had become almost dull in its impact. When the belt recoiled around his hips and snapped at his abdomen, his brain told his mouth to scream. Which it did and Jamie closed his eyes waiting for the next blow.

It did not come and he blinked at Jer’s terror stricken countenance. Who knew that Jer could be so expressive, he thought inanely. One did not have to listen to the harshness of his voice, the world of Jer was in the iron gray depths, his strength and passion in his eyes.

Only now Jamie frowned and focused on his mouth. Teeny-fee? Twenty? Fuck you, kid, crown? Count? Count! Twenty-three!

“Twenty-three, sir, thank you sir.” He coughed. Seven more to go.

And hell was a cold bitch as flame lanced through his body. The brief respite had confused his body and it felt like the blows had just begun.

And then, just like that, it was over. The roll of emotions, the fear, the training, and it was over. Holden reached him first and the smell almost made him purr with satisfaction. His arms were lowered slowly and his body maneuvered into the familiar embrace of Jer’s chest. He could hear the rumble, almost feral hiss but he was too far gone to care. Holden and Jer were there, they said he wouldn’t be hurt. They were good men, free and slave. Jamie rubbed his cheek against Jer’s chest. 

*~*

The end was anticlimactic. Nikol seemed deflated as he invited everyone into the dining hall for refreshments. His business partners followed. Laura seemed ill at ease, favoring the solarium instead. Lord Taganov declined.

Holden looked around, counting heads even as his adrenaline continued to pump. Yves stood respectfully at Alix’s shoulder as they talked to the princess. Bran was close, he could feel him and when he reached out, he pulled him close and held him about his waist.

Jer had Jamie and did not seem inclined to let go.

Then there was the Duke.

He approached as if walking through mud, slow and deliberate, his feet sticking to the marbled flooring before taking the next step. Holden tried to catch Jer’s eye but he wouldn’t look up. His mouth was against Jamie’s hair and he could hear the low, reassuring rumbling.

“Mr. Larssen,” the Duke twisted his hands, “It is over?”

The fool might have been dumb assed nobility but Holden’s heart softened, “It is over. Jamie is once more yours in the eyes of Tenaran law, but do not forget, he never stopped being yours.”

Jer tensed at the Duke’s nearness, his hands holding Jamie’s in his own. With one final kiss to the sweaty forehead, he eased Jamie back and onto his own feet.

The Duke paid him no never mind, his sole focus. Jamie.

His Jamie

The boy blinked owlishly, the dark red strands slipping from the knot Alix had twisted in his hair. They framed his face and made him look ridiculously young.

“Jamie?”

Jamie blinked again and a serene smile curved his gorgeous lips. “My master?” he breathed.

Holden's free arm went about Jer’s hips and pulled him close. Yves’ face was solemn but he kept giving a slight nod. Alix was more business like; she had her keys and gloves in her hand, her purse rested in the crook of her arm.

“It’s over,” she said.

“But will it ever really be over?” Jer’s voice murmured.

“Master?” Bran’s breath was against his neck.

“It’s over, let’s go home.”


	21. Hope Springs Anew

The sun was warm on his face and the spring air felt good after a frigid winter. He wanted to be outdoors. Yves had snickered at him so he left him at home. Not that Yves minded a bit with the upcoming sale of the latest delinquent. From the sounds coming out of the bedroom, no, Yves hadn’t minded one bit. 

Jer was a few steps ahead, looking through the baskets of books in the darkened stall. He could see the stack beginning to form and shook his head. Bran, on the other hand kept step with him even though the dove gray eyes were sweeping over the farmer’s fresh produce with a lust that should have worried him a bit. He laughed and inhaled the newness of spring, complete with dogs barking and children squealing in high pitched abandon.

Maybe the summer would be mild as well.

Jer returned to his side, the satchel hanging from his shoulder much more heavy than it had began with. Eyebrows lifted innocently in return.

“What?” Jer asked, “Just because he’s not here, doesn’t mean the little slut won’t deny me if I don’t bring back exactly what he asked for.”

And they laughed together. He liked to see that gorgeous smile, the lines smoothing out in the face that was much more relaxed. It felt good to laugh.

“Master,” Bran’s fingers entwined with his own.

“Yes, darling?”

“Isn’t that…” Holden followed the line of Bran’s gaze. His smile didn’t falter, it widened.

It was Jamie and Sebastian, trailing in a respectable distance behind Lord Peccati. The Duke held his dark haired son’s hand in his own as the toddler took slow, awkward proud steps. Sebastian held the second child in a sling that allowed the babe to take in the sites of the market with bright inquisitive eyes. 

Jamie, his mouth dried, was fucking gorgeous. He and Sebastian wore matching tunics of a cream fabric that seemed to shimmer. Then he wanted to snort, the Duke had ignored his counsel and had the tunics edged in dark brown…velvet, maybe? Rinaldo couldn’t give up the grandeur of his home for the simplicity of Tenarus. The family had adapted yet retained their spirit as well.

Rinaldo lifted a hand in greeting as Seb nudged Jamie. The golden eyes met his own accompanied with a wide smile. Holden had a feeling the old Jamie would have flown across the market square, chattering like a squirrel begging for nuts and squirming like a puppy to be stroked. The lessons, however, were well learned. Jamie was relaxed and attuned to his master. And when Rinaldo gave his assent, the boy strolled in a long legged gait that had heads turning.

“Damn,” Jer breathed.

“Mister Larrsen,” Jamie said with a smile, “My master sends his greetings and notes that it has been awhile.”

Holden nodded as Jer got closer and closer. Holden’s cock twitched at the sight of the two of them together, Jamie seemed to curl into Jer even though they were not touching.

Jer licked his lips and shot a look to Holden, “Master?”

He knew what Jer was asking for; he lifted a brow to Jamie whose lips curved in return. “I take it you have permission, sweetheart?”

Jamie’s large eyes, unclouded with the torment of the past and bright with happiness and lust, turned to Jer once more and breathed, “Oh yes sir.”

Holden grunted at the weight of the satchel that was shoved into his hands. Jer and Jamie hurried over to the secluded wall where the large oak tree had put on its leaves to provide shade. In that shade, he could barely make out the dark head leaned down to the red, the symmetry of two bodies merged into one.

Bran huffed in laughter, “Master, we still have to do the marketing.”

He shifted on his feet and sighed, “That we do, darling, that we do. But we need to double the food stuffs. I have a feeling we will be having guests this evening.”

“Guests?”

Holden looked back into the shade where Jer had Jamie in his arms. Rinaldo met his gaze and nodded slowly. “The Peccatis will be joining us for dinner.”


End file.
